


Hidden Gardens (Geraskier version)

by LovelyGarroter



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Authorized Repost, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Photographer Jaskier, Pining, Pub Owner Geralt, Reading during sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29319258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyGarroter/pseuds/LovelyGarroter
Summary: Jaskier burst out laughing, the sound mixing with the loud chatter as more people entered the pub.“I knew you'd say that! It's just too easy to get you riled up, isn't it?” Jaskier took another sip of his beer, cleaning a little foam off his upper lip.“Why do you like to piss me off so much?” Geralt said, rubbing his closed eyes with the tip of his fingers. He didn't feel as angry as he looked, but apparently he had a reputation to keep.“Believe me, the only time I did it on purpose was just now. Hey, is this going to be our dynamic forever? I come here, you snap at me for no reason at all, throw me out and I come back? It's getting pretty predictable.”“Why do you keep coming back, exactly?” Geralt said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.“I like your pretty face. And Eskel has sick jokes. The beer is fine, too."OR the one where Geralt owns a pub and Jaskier is a photographer who needs his help for a project. Geralt is grumpy, Jaskier is not. Geralt has a secret. There is some pining and a lot of fluff. This is a geraskier repost of the already existing work ‘Hidden Gardens’ by pink-heaven19 on Ao3. Read the notes for more information.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinky_heaven19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinky_heaven19/gifts).



> Hii guys, it's me again. This time to stay, hopefully.
> 
> This is a REPOST of an already existing work of the same name [Hidden Gardens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623869/chapters/15157243) by [@pinky_heaven19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinky_heaven19/pseuds/pinky_heaven19) here on Ao3. I have her permission to make a Geraskier version of it. Please, pretty please, check out her profile and amazing fics. You may like the Larry ship :) I’d really appreciate it if you gave the author some love. She's the sweetest person and I'm so glad I met her and for all the support she's giving me. Also, there is a [rebloggable](http://pinky-heaven19.tumblr.com/post/163063074574/pinky-heaven19-hidden-gardens-by-pinkyheaven19) post for the original fic.
> 
> I'm not secure enough in myself or my English (I'm not a native speaker) to start posting my works yet, but I still want to be part of the fandom and bring nice things to it that already exist that I know of and for you all to get to know too. You've been very kind to me so far and I'm learning a lot. I'll try my best.
> 
> Btw, It's a modern setting au, but with The Witcher's places/names/things. I used the appearance/surnames from the actors of the TV series in some cases. Like Lambert who will be played by Paul Bullion and Eskel by Basil Eidenbenz.
> 
> Without further ado, happy reading!

“God fucking damn it,” Geralt gritted between his teeth, taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes and turned his head to the ceiling. His nose was filled with the smell of freshly spilled beer.

“You alright, mate?” Eskel asked, turning to the sound coming from Geralt’s direction.

“Yeah, just a broken glass. The perfect ending for a shit day.”

“At least it’s almost over.” Eskel said with a smile and started to clean the countertop with a rag that probably hadn’t been washed in a few days. He was using alcohol, so it probably made up for it a bit.

Geralt bit the inside of his cheek. Eskel’s incredible disposition to always see the bright side of things was remarkable. He opened the door behind him to the small kitchen and got a broom, a dust pan, a rag and a bucket. He carefully swept the glass on the floor behind the counter and was crouching to pick up the bigger pieces of glass when he heard the door open and the familiar bell chime.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, not bothering to lift his body up. It was almost closing time and all he wanted to do was call it a day and collapse on his bed. His head was killing him. He knew he needed any client he could get, but he also couldn’t care at that time of day.

“Good evening!” Eskel’s chipper tone filled the completely empty pub.

“Good evening, hi,” a voice replied. Soft, but almost as cheerful as Eskel’s.

“What can I get you?”

Geralt heard the sound of the stool cracking under the man’s weight when he sat down.

“Oops, hope I don’t break it.”

“I think you’re good. It’s just older than you are, but very sturdy. Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a…hum…something good and cheap.”

Even in his dark-cloud-over-his-head-mood, a spark of curiosity hit him. The man’s voice was intriguing, warm and sweet. Geralt pictured him in his late twenties and short. Probably chubby as well, with the stool breaking comment.

“Coming right up.” Eskel’s comment was followed by the sound of the beer tap.

Geralt finished picking up the glass pieces and started to mop up the bit of beer off the wooden floor, which was only partially successful due to the cracks in the fibres of the wood. “Need to change it to something easier to clean,” he thought for the millionth time in the years he’d worked there.

“Cheers, mate.”

The man definitely had a beard, Geralt could tell by his tone. Not a good-looking, trimmed one, but an old-fashioned beard, to make teenage boys jealous.

“Dreadful weather, huh” Eskel chirped and Geralt rolled his eyes. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of making small talk with new customers, who only came once in a lifetime. Geralt could be pretty chatty with his regulars, but only because he’d known them for years.

“Tell me about it. My place is starting to smell like a wet dog because of this constant rain.”

Eskel giggled and Geralt finally stood up again, his left knee making a popping sound.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there,” the stranger said with a smile.

Geralt said nothing. The man, if you could call him that, wasn’t anything like he thought he would be. Tall, almost as much as he was, Geralt could tell, even when sitting down. Baby face, probably not a day older than twenty. Soft, brown hair and definitely not a beard. His long fingers had rings on them and Geralt could see traces of chest hair over the collar. He wore jeans that were so tight it was probably difficult to fit into them. His white T-shirt was fitting, a plaid red flannel shirt over it. Geralt could tell his eyes were light in colour, but he couldn’t see them clearly in the low-lit pub.

“Nice little place you’ve got here,” the stranger continued to both him and Eskel, unaffected by the lack of response from Geralt, his eyes bright and interested. “Much different than the other pubs I’ve seen around here.”

“Thanks, we try to keep it authentic.” Eskel said, and he couldn’t have been closer to the truth. Very few things had changed from when Geralt’s grandfather opened it in 1947. Of course some equipment was new, and the toilets had definitely improved, but in terms of furniture and fixtures, it was pretty much the same.

Dark wooden floor, dark wooden counter, dark wooden tables and chair sets (all three of them). There was a rug that used to have a very delicate pattern on it right in the middle of the pub, but years and years of feet and furniture rearranging had dulled it to a dark brown with green smudges. The large, open windows were the same, but the curtains had changed over the years, yet still followed the same dark green slash crimson tones in velvet. They were a pain to wash, so Geralt cleaned them only the bare minimum.

As for the bar itself, it hadn’t changed much. They certainly didn’t offer a great variety of drinks, keeping it simple – and cheap. You couldn’t charge much for a pint if you wanted to sell it in Lower Posada. The constant years of spilling beers in bar fights (which were down to a minimum, thankfully) and drunken behaviour made the place have a constant smell of a brewery. To Geralt, it smelled like home.

“My name is Jaskier Pankratz,” the stranger finally said, stretching out his hand.

“Eskel Eidenbenz.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Eskel,” Jaskier said, shaking his hand and turning to Geralt, who only nodded.

“Geralt Rivia.”

Jaskier kept his hand out only a fraction of a second long when he realised Geralt wasn’t going to shake it.

“Just the man I wanted to talk to,” he said with a grin.

“Me? What business do you have with me?” Geralt asked, eyebrows raising suspiciously high. Who was this kid?

“None yet, but I was told you were the right person to help me.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he said, turning his back to the counter and going back to the kitchen to put back the cleaning supplies. He could hear the man talking to Eskel and laughing. He waited in the kitchen for a few minutes until it was nine twenty-seven. When he came out, the stranger stopped talking and looked straight at him.

“I was telling Jaskier that you were having a bad day,” Eskel said, always trying to keep the peace “and he has a really cool idea, mate.”

“We close at nine thirty, so I’d appreciate it if you could finish your drink,” he pointed to Jaskier’s half empty glass, “pay for it and leave.”

“Sure, don’t want to be a bother,” he said, reaching for his wallet and putting a few bills on the counter. He finished the rest of the beer in one long gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “But I still need your help, it wouldn’t take more than twenty minutes of your time, I promise.”

“I already said I can’t help you, kid.”

“Kid? How old do you think I am?” he replied with an amused smile “How old are you?”

“Old enough to ask you to leave my pub.”

“Wolf, c’mon.” Eskel started, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s already been a hard day, let’s not make it worse.”

“Too late.” Geralt said, looking Jaskier in the eyes. His smile had disappeared from his face, a frown taking its place.

“Well, that’s my cue to go,” he said, getting up and walking to the door, his movements surprisingly graceful. He got his umbrella and turned around with one last glance behind him. “Good night.”

Eskel waved at him and looked at Geralt with an exasperated look on his face.

“What the fuck, man? Why did you treat him like that? You need all the customers you can get!”

“Oh come on, Eskel. Do you think he would ever come back, even if I had laid down a red carpet and sprinkled rose petals on him? He’s a rich kid, probably thought this was going to be one of those cool pubs that he sees on TV that have game night and serve veggie burgers.”

“First of all, we do have game nights. Not fancy ones, but we have ‘em. And also, he has this photography project that could be really good for the neighbourhood. For this place.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, I don’t need this shit right now,” he said, turning off the bar lights and arranging the chairs around the tables.

“What you need is more people in this bar, and you need all the help that you can get.”

“He’s some rich boy who studies fucking art and you think he could help us? Go home, Eskel.”

“I’ll just…”

“Eskel, you know you are my favorite leaf in this shitty tree of my life, but I can close up on my own today, thanks. See you tomorrow.” He said, going to the cash register to collect the money from the day, not even bothering to count. It certainly wouldn’t have made him feel better.

“Okay, mate. See you tomorrow.”

Geralt stared at the register in front of him until he heard the bell chime for the last time that day and breathed a sigh of relief. He walked around slowly, closing curtains and locking the door. He flicked the switch that turned off the light behind the sign that read “Witcher’s” in front of the pub. When he made sure everything was properly locked up, he set the alarm and went to the kitchen. Almost hidden in a corner was a door, which he locked after him as well. He went up the narrow steps and opened the door to his small flat.

It had been his father’s hiding place whenever he used to fight with his mother. It was very small, made up of a living room slash kitchen slash dining room, a tiny bathroom and his bedroom. When his father died, Geralt sold all the cheap furniture, bought new one and painted the walls. He didn’t mind the cramped space, he was just one person after all, and he kept it clean and tidy. He knew he couldn’t afford any other place that was bigger than his current arrangement, which was completely free. And best of all, there was zero commute to work. In Aedirn, you could never take that for granted.

He quickly brushed his teeth, changed into an old t-shirt and removed his jeans. He thought about watching TV for a while, but his head was threatening to burst at any moment and he really wished for that day to be over soon. He turned off the light and crawled into bed, pulling the covers up to his neck to keep himself warm. He was sure he would fall asleep the minute his head hit the pillow, but flashes of his day kept his mind from shutting off.

He tossed and turned. He kept seeing the bills piling up, not just the pub’s but his as well. He’d already sold his car, and that lasted him a little while. But now he was seriously considering the need for a bank loan and that scared him half to death.

“No use worrying about that now, brain.”

To his absolute utter surprise, something different crossed his mind. The guy with the photograph project. He should have asked Eskel more questions about it, maybe there really was something there. No, that was silly. Pointless too, since he’d practically kicked the man out of the bar and he wouldn’t come back. Geralt knew he personally wouldn’t, if someone had treated him as badly as he had treated the guy.

“Jaskier, his name was Jaskier,” he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath and willing himself to sleep. Eventually, he succeeded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave comments and kudos if you're liking it. I own it all to [@pinky_heaven19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinky_heaven19/pseuds/pinky_heaven19) and her amazing story, so don't forget to check it out. Find me on [TUMBLR!](https://lovelygarroter.tumblr.com/) I'll try to update frequently.


	2. Chapter 2

Next time Geralt saw Jaskier, he had just gotten in from speaking to their supplier, something that always made him feel jittery, but that day in particular had been worse than others.

“Got a deal with them?” Eskel asked, hopeful.

“Nah. They said they can neither lower the prices nor extend the payment period. Not even a couple of days,” he huffed out, sitting on a stool in front of Eskel and hiding his face in his hands. He could feel another headache coming.

“Shit, man.” Eskel said, and squeezed his shoulder. “You know I don’t have to pay my bills until the 9th so if you need a couple more days to set yourself out this month I can-”

“No, no way.” Geralt shook his head and faked a smile. “It’s not that bad yet.”

“Focus on the yet,” joked Eskel and Geralt got up to clear room for a customer that walked in. There were half a dozen people scattered around the place, most of them drinking from the same glass they’d ordered on arrival. The sun shone through the windows on a rare, dry day.

“Hey Mousesack, what’s up?” He asked the middle aged man who sat down with a sigh.

“Well, I came here at two o’clock in the afternoon, what do you think?” He said with a sign for Eskel, who winked at him and went to get a bottle from the shelf behind him.

“Slow day at the shop?” Geralt asked, standing next to him.

“I’m almost calling it a day. Good thing I can always come here to chat with you, lads.”

“Cheers!” Eskel said, the doorbell chimed and they all looked at the door to see who was walking in. “Jaskier!” Eskel called out to him, whose face lit up with a smile. He was wearing a cap that day and a jeans jacket over a plain red T-shirt. He was either wearing the same pair of tight jeans or he had a collection of them.

“Hey, Eskie. How is it going?”

“Eskie?” Asked Geralt, who sounded equally amused and annoyed.

“Shut up, I like it,” Eskel replied and shook Jaskier’s hand. Geralt stayed motionless and Jaskier just nodded.

“Hey, mate,” he said, adjusting himself on a stool and putting his rucksack on the floor between his feet.

“Hi,” Geralt managed to say, and they were all silent for a moment.

“I didn’t know this place was open this early. I was walking by and saw there were some people inside. I was surprised.”

“A lot of people come here during the day.” Eskel said, “Do you work night shifts or something?

“I'm just doing odd jobs for now. Nothing that requires a fixed schedule.”

“Oh, I see, the usual?”

“Sure. Do you serve lunch here as well?”

“If you can call crisps and pickle lunch, yeah.” Eskel said and Jaskier’s lips curved up in a smile.

Eskel gave Jaskier his drink and a group of three people entered the pub, Eskel rushing to them. Jaskier didn’t stop staring at Geralt, who was feeling uncomfortable being scrutinized like that.

“What?” he asked, a little more abruptly than he intended to.

“Nothing.” Jaskier said, sipping his beer and looking at him smugly.

“What?” Geralt repeated, walking closer to him and stopping right in front of him. Jaskier looked at his mouth, then back to his eyes, then back to his mouth again.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that I was warned that you could be a little…grumpy.” Jaskier said, his tone slow and pensive.

“Grumpy? Who used the term grumpy to talk about me?” Geralt could kill them.

“They didn’t actually use the word grumpy, but my mum taught me to always be polite.”

“Who said that?”

“Relax, man. They weren’t being mean, and I don’t think you’re that grumpy. You should meet my uncle Ferrant.”

Geralt’s lip curved up without his permission and he lowered his head. From the corner of his eye he saw Jaskier fumbling with something in his rucksack.

“Seriously,” Jaskier continued, smiling as he spoke “when I was a kid my mum used him as a way to scare me into doing things. Don’t wanna go to sleep? Okay, I’ll call uncle Ferrant and he’ll tuck you in. Taking too long in the bath? I’ll call uncle Ferrant. Fighting with your sister? Uncle Ferrant.”

“Never had a scary uncle like that,” Geralt found himself saying.

“Maybe you’ll become scary uncle Geralt, big and full of anger.” Jaskier said with a grin, teasing.

Geralt barked out a laugh. The sound surprised not only him, but also Eskel, who shot his head in his and Jaskier’s direction, a smile appearing on his own face. Geralt’s good mood was short-lived when he heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter. For him it was something strangely intimate. He didn’t like the thought of a stranger having a photo of him. Especially happy and smiling.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” He asked Jaskier, all traces of his smile gone from his face.

“Yeah, I figured that since you laugh so rarely it should be documented,” his tone was still light.

“I didn’t say you could take a picture of me,” he said, coming closer and feeling his face heat up, his jaw tense.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was such a big deal. I can delete it if you want to.”

“Get out,” he said, teeth clenched shut. He hated having his picture taking.

“Here we go…” Eskel mumbled and walked over to them, still behind the counter.

“Mate, look, I didn’t mean to of-“

“I said get out,” his voice was louder and some of the clients looked in their direction. Jaskier sighed and got up from his chair, putting his camera inside his rucksack and slinging it over his shoulder.

“Is there a suggestion box somewhere? I have a few things I’d like to say,” he said, waving at Eskel and walking towards the door. Despite all that, he didn’t look really mad.

When he was out, everybody looked at Geralt, who suddenly felt embarrassed enough to feel his cheeks pink.

“Never pays,” he managed to say, and some nodded in understanding.

“Good one, mate,” Eskel said next to him.

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Clearly. You realize he didn’t actually pay, right? You scurried him out before he even could.”

“A couple of quids won’t make a difference.”

“Are you sure?” Eskel side-eyed him and went back to chat with the customers at the opposite end of the counter.

It was another week before Geralt saw Jaskier, and the bar was starting to get crowded. It was pouring and unusually cold for a March evening. Geralt saw the head of damp messy strands above most heads in the place when he entered the pub, running his fingers through his hair. His wet hair was darker and his eyes bright, although Geralt still couldn’t make out if they were blue or grey. He went straight to the counter, but ignored Geralt completely, going straight to Eskel.

“Hi mate, I'm really sorry I forgot to pay the other night, I felt shit about it but only had the time to come in now,” he said in a hurry, putting a couple of bills on the counter.

“It's alright. We have a few people who collect money from debts, but you were still safe.”

Geralt watched as Jaskier grinned widely, making himself comfortable on a stool right in front of Eskel.

“I hope I never get to meet them. It's almost crowded here, today.”

“Game night.”

“Oh, cool. In this case, get me a pint, please.”

“Sure thing.” Eskel said, and was quick to come back to where Jaskier was sitting with a perfectly drawn pint, hurrying to the table that called him.

Jaskier took out his phone from his rucksack, put his elbows on the counter and started typing. Geralt's eyes wandered from the rings on his long fingers to the focused expression on his face. The collar of his long-sleeved white shirt was a little loose from too much wearing, and he was wearing tight jeans. Again.

“I can see you staring at me from the corner of my eye, you know,” he said without looking up from his phone, and only then Geralt noticed that he was just standing there, holding a glass in his hand.

“I wasn't staring at you.”

“Watching me, then.” he said looking at Geralt with a smirk.

“Well, you happen to be right in the direction of the TV, kid.”

Jaskier looked up and behind him to where the big, flat screen TV was mounted on the wall.

“The game hasn't started yet.”

“I like the commercials.” Geralt shrugged.

“Sure you do,” he said, and turned his attention to his cell phone. “Who's playing?”

Geralt walked up to him, leaning his weight on one leg.

“What do you mean who's playing? Wolf School is playing!” He couldn't believe this kid didn't know there was a Wolf School game about to start.

“I'm more of a Cat School man myself.”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“That's it, get out.”

Jaskier burst out laughing, the sound mixing with the loud chatter as more people entered the pub.

“I knew you'd say that! It's just too easy to get you riled up, isn't it?” Jaskier took another sip of his beer, cleaning a little foam off his upper lip.

“Why do you like to piss me off so much?” Geralt said, rubbing his closed eyes with the tip of his fingers. He didn't feel as angry as he looked, but apparently he had a reputation to keep.

“Believe me, the only time I did it on purpose was just now. Hey, is this going to be our dynamic forever? I come here, you snap at me for no reason at all, throw me out and I come back? It's getting pretty predictable.”

“Why do you keep coming back, exactly?” Geralt said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I like your pretty face. And Eskel has sick jokes. The beer is fine, too.” he said, taking a sip.

Geralt didn't have time to reply to that as more and more people gathered on the counter with orders before the game started. Game nights were great for business, and he'd stocked up on food and beverages of different types. He saw, from the corner of his eye, Jaskier stand up and walk confidently to a table where three people were sitting, two men and one woman. Geralt knew all of them because they were regulars and pretty nice people. In fact, he knew everybody in that room except for Jaskier.

Most people who came into his pub were regulars. People who had been going there since his father owned the place. Workers looking for cheap fun. There weren't many hobbies they could afford, but drinking with buddies was always an option for them. Some, Geralt knew, drank to forget, but they almost never started trouble and Geralt prided himself on keeping the peace at all times. He was also quite proud of the fact that he knew a part of their life stories, knew what to ask when they came in and how to listen attentively.

Jaskier shook hands with everybody at the table and they invited him to sit down with them in a matter of seconds. Jaskier sat facing the counter, and Geralt saw that his eyes were interested in the conversation and that an open smile was the norm for him.

As the game started and people turned their direction to the screen, Geralt couldn't stop staring (yes, he admitted he was staring) at Jaskier, the way he moved his hands when he talked and paid attention to everybody that spoke to him. Anybody who walked past their table got a handshake and an introduction.

“Mate, I hate to tell you, but you're being too obvious.” Eskel said as he hurried past him, both walking back and forth to tend to people.

“Obvious about what?” he asked, faking innocence.

“That you wanna walk over there and suck face with him,” he said with a smug grin.

“Jesus, Eskel. Have you been drinking as well?”

“I've just had three pints, mate. I'm trying to cut it down, ya know.”

“That's an improvement.”

Geralt was relieved that Eskel was too busy to keep the conversation going. It was half-time when Jaskier walked up to the counter and directly to Geralt, this time.

“Another pint, please.” he said, too pleased with himself.

“Enjoying yourself, kid?” Geralt asked as he quickly filled another glass for him.

“Very much, yes. I love talking to new people, and everybody here is so friendly. Except for you, of course.” he joked, and nodded as Geralt gave him his glass, going back to the table. Cheeky bastard.

The night definitely warmed up as people got drunker and Wolf School scored a goal. Geralt smiled when Jaskier shouted along with everyone, high-fiving everybody within reaching distance. He was a fun person to watch.

The game ended two to one, and Jaskier was back at the counter the second it was over.

“Listen, Geralt, I have to run, but I wanted to give you this,” he said, pulling a carefully wrapped box out of his rucksack.

“Is this a joke, kid?” Geralt asked without any intention of picking it up from Jaskier's hands.

“This is called a present. You take it, say thank you, unwrap it and act grateful even if you hate it.”

“Stop patronizing me like that.” Geralt said, angrier than he had been the whole night.

“Then stop calling me kid. You're only two years older than me, it's bullshit.”

“How do you know I'm two years older than you?”

“Eskie told me you were twenty four. I'm good at math like that,” he said, shaking the box in front of Geralt, “Come on, open it.”

Geralt sighed and took the present, quickly ripping the paper. He held in his hand a wooden box, light in color and smooth to the touch. There was a slit in the middle of the lid, and when Geralt opened it he found it was empty.

“There's nothing here.”

“No shit, Sherlock. It's a suggestion box. It goes with this,” he pulled a paper from his rucksack and stretched it on the counter. It read SUGGESTION BOX. “I would have carved it on the lid, but time was pressing. You could really use one. In fact, I have my first suggestion here,” he said, slipping a folded piece of paper in the slit.

Geralt rolled his eyes, opened the box and read it aloud.

“Get a suggestion box.”

“And you've already followed that, how nice of you,” Jaskier said with a grin, taking out his small umbrella from his rucksack and then adjusting it in one shoulder. “I gotta run, trains to catch and all. Hey Eskel, bye mate!” He shouted, and Eskel shouted bye back. “I hope you make good use of it. See you later, Geralt.”

“Bye, kid. Jaskier, bye Jaskier.” he corrected himself and Jaskier smiled openly before turning his back to him and saying goodbye to the people he'd spent the night with, opening his umbrella and facing the heavy rain. Geralt had the feeling he would be back again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave comments and kudos if you're liking it. I own it all to [@pinky_heaven19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinky_heaven19/pseuds/pinky_heaven19) and her amazing story, so don't forget to check it out. Find me on [TUMBLR!](https://lovelygarroter.tumblr.com/) I'll try to update frequently.


	3. Chapter 3

“Geralt Rivia, are you following me?”

Geralt froze in place, the basket in his hands still swinging from the sudden stop. Was it weird that it took him no time at all to recognize Jaskier's voice? He turned around and sure enough, there he was, smiling bright.

“I could say the same thing.” Geralt said, trying not to stare at Jaskier's absurdly great legs, exposed by his track shorts. He was wearing a navy blue, long sleeved, cotton shirt and had a headband tied around his head, keeping his hair out of his face. He looked flushed and the hairs on the back of his neck were damp with sweat. “What are you doing here?”

“Hum...well...” Jaskier looked from the basket in his hands – which contained an unusual amount of fruits and a probably unhealthy amount of yogurt – to the toilet paper aisle next to them. “Grocery shopping, what else?”

“No, I mean, here, in this supermarket.” Geralt insisted. Jaskier still looked confused. “Like, in this area of the city?”

“Well, it's closest to home, so I don't have to carry heavy bags for too long,” he answered, still looking like he didn't quite understand the reasoning behind the question.

“You live near here? In actual Lower Posada?”

“Yeah, moved here from Lettenhove about two months ago. Where do you think I lived?”

Geralt blinked. “I don't know. Not here.” He started walking in the direction of the cash registers and Jaskier followed him. Jaskier's eyebrows shot up, understanding dawning on him.

“Oh, I see. You thought that because I like to photograph people I must be some rich boy whose daddy supports him financially, is that it? That I only came to your pub to see how the other side lived.”

Geralt looked down, suddenly embarrassed.

“Maybe.”

Jaskier let out a humorless laugh.

“Well, that explains why you can't stand me.”

“It's not like that,” Geralt was quick to say, because it really wasn't. Jaskier had a way of getting on his nerves, but he didn't actually dislike him. How could he, when Jaskier was so nice?

He rang up his few items while Jaskier stood next to him. He caught a whiff of his smell with a hint of deodorant under it. He moved one step away.

“We like the same type of cheese,” Jaskier said to him as Geralt bagged his groceries. The comment was so typical of Jaskier that Geralt couldn't help but smile.

“And you like yogurt a lot.”

“I've got coupons for that,” Jaskier said triumphantly as he handed them to the cashier. “Gotta love a good deal.”

Geralt shook his head, waiting for Jaskier to finish paying for his own groceries before leaving the supermarket. It was already 10 o'clock and he needed to be at the pub at 11 to open.

“Here,” Jaskier said when they walked out the door, handing Geralt a couple of plastic bags, “you can help me bring those home.”

“Excuse me? I'm not walking you home.”

“You already are.” Jaskier smiled at him and nudged his hands in Geralt's, who took the bags. Only then he realized he was walking beside Jaskier in the opposite direction of his own place. “I live only a few blocks away, I'll give you a special treat if you do.”

“I don't want any special treats from you.” Geralt scoffed, but he had no arguments, really. He was still walking Jaskier home.

When they reached his place, Geralt was not surprised to see it was an old, four-story building. Most housing was like that in this part of the neighborhood. He watched as Jaskier fumbled with the keys, taking more bags from his hands to help him.

“There, you're home.”

“No, sir. You're walking me to the door.” Jaskier said, looking back and smiling with his mouth closed. Geralt had to fake a sigh this time.

“What floor do you live on?”

“Fourth.”

“Of course,” he said, and followed Jaskier up the stairs. He avoided looking up, he didn't want to give Jaskier the chance to say he was staring at his ass, and focused on his own dirty trainers. “Excuse me,” he said as he entered Jaskier's flat, curiously eyeing it from the door. Jaskier motioned for him to follow him to the kitchen.

Jaskier's place was bigger than Geralt's, but still small. He had a nice TV, but the couch looked old and lumpy. The flat was nicely decorated, with a few plants here and there that made Geralt smile. He saw a very short hallway which led to three doors. The kitchen had a lot of cabinets and there were some pots hanging on the wall above the sink.

Geralt was awkwardly standing in the middle of Jaskier's flat, and the strangeness of it hadn't escaped him.

“You can put the yogurt in the fridge,” Jaskier said as he started to remove the fruits out of the bags.

“Okay...” Geralt mumbled. Jaskier was probably the only person in the world to invite a complete stranger into his house and then ask him to open the fridge. In Geralt's world he was, at least. He opened the door to the fridge to find it was almost empty, except for butter, a lonely bottle of milk and some eggs. No leftovers to be found. The vegetable drawer was filled to the brim, though.

“Are you one of those health freaks or something?” He asked Jaskier while stacking the yogurt, who turned to his direction.

“No,” he laughed, “why?”

“Well, look at you.” Geralt gestured towards Jaskier, and he meant the sporty clothes, but realized half a second later what it sounded like.

“Why, thank you,” Jaskier bowed slightly, a huge grin on his face. “You're quite fit yourself.”

“No, I didn't mean that! I mean with the exercising and vegetables and stuff.” Geralt said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Don't you eat vegetables?”

“Well, yeah. I'm a responsible adult, I eat my greens. But I certainly balance it with junk food.”

“That makes two of us,” Jaskier said, putting some of the fruits in the fridge and arranging some in a huge fruit bowl.

“You should freeze some of this yogurt, it's going to spoil before you eat all of that.”

“How do you know I don't eat two gallons of it a day? Besides, I don't think you can freeze yogurt.”

“Of course you can. You can freeze anything, can't you?”

Jaskier looked thoughtful for a moment before replying.

“Eggs. I don't think you can freeze eggs.”

Geralt honest to God laughed at that, and Jaskier watched him amused.

“You talk some crazy shit, you know that?”

“At least I'm the funny one, not the grumpy one.”

Geralt was still giggling when Jaskier crouched in front of the fridge to rearrange the new contents in it.

“Well, this was fun but I gotta go.”

“Thanks for helping me with the groceries,” Jaskier said, opening a cabinet door and getting something from a high shelf, “Here is your treat.”

He handed Geralt a small bag of gummy bears and Geralt smiled at him fondly.

“Oh, you were serious about that.”

“I'm always serious when it comes to treats and snacks,” he said with a very fake look on his face.

“Thanks, these will give me energy to walk back to my place,” he moved towards the door, Jaskier right behind him.

“I imagine you don't live far.”

“I live upstairs of the pub, actually.”

“Lucky, no commute to work.”

“Exactly!” Geralt said and bit his lips to hide his excited smile. He had the impression Jaskier saw it nonetheless. “See you later, then.”

“You say it as if I was going to your pub again.” Jaskier mocked.

“Well, aren't you? I thought you liked Eskel's jokes and my pretty face.”

“I do, but the owner is a bit of an asshole, keeps kicking me out.”

“I'll talk to him so it doesn't happen again.”

“Thanks, I'll also leave him a note in the suggestion box.” Jaskier said, and waved as Geralt walked away and down the stairs. His mood had improved enough for him to hum to a tune while he made the short seven blocks walk.

“Hey, Eskel,” he greeted the blond man with a smile and a wave. “You came in early.” Eskel's shift started officially at noon.

“Thought I'd ask you to leave an hour early today. Some of my mates are meeting up and I kinda want to join them.

“Sure. Gummy bears?” He offered the package to Eskel, having already munched down half of it.

“Yes, please!” Eskel was too excited when it came to food, and shoved a handful in his mouth.

“I'll put the rest of the groceries away, be right back.” Geralt said, and quickly put away the things he'd bought for himself before washing his face and coming back down. He started to sweep the floor, and was so lost in his thoughts that he was startled when Eskel spoke to him.

“What's gotten into you, today? You are humming and you're not frowning.”

“I am? I hadn't noticed that.” Geralt shrugged his shoulders. Eskel eyed him suspiciously and Geralt opened his mouth and closed it again.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, back to sweeping.

“What? Tell me.” Eskel dropped the change he was counting and walked to where Geralt was.

“I ran into Jaskier at the shops today.”

Eskel's brows furrowed.

“Jaskier who?”

“Jaskier, the photographer guy.”

“Ohhh, that Jaskier.” Eskel's smile turned mischievous and he wiggled his brows, making Geralt laugh.

“It's nothing like that. He's fun, that's all. I walked him home and helped him with his groceries.”

“Is that what kids are calling it nowadays? Putting away groceries?”

Geralt lightly punched him in the arm. “We talked about eggs, it was actually weird now that I think about it. And he gave me the gummy bears as a treat.”

“Isn't he conditioning you well?” Eskel joked and got another punch on the arm, a little harder this time.

“Back to work, Scarface.”

“As you wish, sir.” Eskel fake saluted and got back to the register.

When Jaskier came to the pub again, it wasn't in a situation Geralt expected it to be. It was still 7:30 in the morning, and Geralt had been up at 6 o'clock to give the pub a thorough clean. He managed to keep it clean enough with a daily sweep and mopping, but once a month he paid two people to come and clean it top to bottom. This month he couldn't afford that. It was either that or paying Eskel, and he didn't spare it a second thought before happily giving Eskel the money he always worked hard for, and setting the alarm early for the next day. He wasn't a stranger to hard work.

His head snapped up when he heard a knock on the door, and could see through the glass a smiling Jaskier. He wiped his hands on his trousers and went to the door to unlock it, already smiling, although a bit confusedly.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Saw the lights on while I was running. Saw you hard at work and thought you might like this.” He said, waving a paper bag in front of Geralt's face. When he opened it, a delicious smell reached his nose.

“Banana muffins?” He asked, already taking one out of the bag and biting into it.

“They're my favorite, I hope you like them too. Your hands are gross, you should probably wash them before you eat.” Jaskier pointed to Geralt's dusty fingers, who managed to smear his hand across Jaskier's cheek. “Hey! Don't do that!” He rubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I'm being nice to you.”

“Sorry, you really are. Why, though?” He asked with his mouth full.

“I'm trying to buy my place in heaven. Thought I might start with you,” he said, and walked in. He looked around and saw all the chairs up on the tables and all the bottles of drinks lined up on the counter. “Wow, you're really up to something here.”

Geralt moved his eyes from Jaskier's bum before speaking. He was clad in the same pair of shorts from the other day, but he was wearing this nice grey shirt, a little damp under his arms and on his back.

“I'm doing some real cleaning today.”

“As opposed to fake cleaning?” Jaskier joked, and Geralt rolled his eyes. “Can I help?”

“You wanna help me clean?” Geralt asked with his hands on his hips.

“Yeah, I have nothing planned all day and it looks like you need a hand.”

“Thanks, but I can't let you do that.”

“Why not? I'm great at dusting, and I bet I can get in narrower places than you.”

Geralt's mouth popped open, a few crumbs falling from it.

“You did not joke about my size.”

“I did.” Jaskier's grin was so endearing that Geralt couldn't even fake being angry anymore.

“Fine, but I'll have you do windows just because of that comment.”

“Great! Love doing windows.” Jaskier replied sarcastically, but caught one of the buckets on the floor and started to fill it with water from the sink. Geralt watched as he hummed and poured some soap into the water. Geralt went back to cleaning all the bottles with a wet and then a dry rag. It was not a minute later that he heard music blasting from Jaskier's phone on the counter.

“What's that?” He asked.

“Offspring. 'I Want You Bad' is the perfect song to put me in the mood for cleaning. But the whole playlist is good, if I say so myself.”

“You have a playlist for cleaning?” Geralt asked incredulously.

“Of course! I have a playlist for everything. For running, for cooking, for long baths, for sex...”

Geralt snorted.

“Do you actually play it, though? Do you actually stop what you're doing and go 'wait let me just turn this on real quick'?”

“I've actually done that, yeah,” Jaskier giggled as well.

“What's in that playlist?”

“You'd like to know.” Jaskier teased and if Geralt were a little less experienced, he would blush. He turned his face away just in case.

He watched as Jaskier expertly washed the windows and used a squeegee to finish it off perfectly.

“Something tells me you've done this before.”

“Yeah, I've picked up a lot of cleaning jobs. Also, I'm not a slob, I wash my own windows,” he turned to face Geralt quickly and turned his attention back to the task at hand.

“This is what you do, then? You do odd jobs to make ends meet?”

“Mostly, yeah. I do sell some pictures, but I can't rely only on it to support myself. What I need is a big art exhibit to put my name out there. Then I could make big bucks with it.”

Geralt thought about the first day Jaskier entered the pub and what Eskel told him. He bit his lips before asking.

“Was that what you had in mind when you first came looking for me? To take pictures of this place?”

“Yeah. I like to photograph things, but I love to photograph people the most. Don't get me wrong, I think everybody is interesting, but I know this pub has been around a long time and that mostly locals come here. I thought it would be nice to photograph them and write a bit about their life, you know? Kind of like that 'People from Cintra' thing. But here, in Lower Posada.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Thanks.” Jaskier said, moving to the other wall.

“You could still do that, if you think it's a good idea. I can point out the most interesting people to you, if you want.” Geralt said cautiously.

“Really? You'd do that?” Jaskier's smile was so big that Geralt smiled as he nodded.

“Sure. There are quite a few people worth writing about. How many people are you thinking?”

“I think about a dozen? Fifteen?”

“I can do that.”

“Thanks, Wolf. It would be really good for the neighborhood and for the pub as well.”

Now Geralt blushed. Jaskier calling him by his nickname was too intimate for a person he barely knew, but he didn't mind it at all.

“Okay, let's do the outside now.” Jaskier said as Shania Twain's Man I Feel Like a Woman echoed around the place. Geralt was focused on putting all the bottles back to their places when he heard a knock on the window. He looked around and burst out laughing as he saw Jaskier pressed up against the window as if something was pushing him, his face squished against the glass, his tongue out.

“You're a child, for God's sake.” He shouted for Jaskier to hear him and that earned him a laugh. Jaskier was back to cleaning and Geralt was surprised at how fast they'd managed to finish it. It was a little after ten and the place was sparkling.

Both him and Jaskier were sweating and both their clothes were dirty with stains of various colors. Jaskier's grey shirt had a big bleached spot and it was completely wrinkled.

“I guess I owe you a new shirt.” Geralt pointed out.

“Nah, I'll just spray some more bleach on it and it'll be a piece of fashion statement.” Jaskier said, gulping down water and running the back of his hand on his forehead.

“You deserve something stronger than water after that. Come on, I'll pour you one on the house.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier said, and Geralt washed his hands before getting both of them glasses full of their best brand of beer.

“Hey, I have an idea. Come with me.” Geralt said, motioning for Jaskier to go behind the counter and into the kitchen with him. Jaskier was familiar with the small kitchen, having spent a good hour scrubbing every stainless steel surface until it shone bright. He'd noticed a door but didn't ask about it.

“Where are we going? To your place?”

“A little higher than that,” Geralt said with a smirk, and Jaskier followed him without a word. “We're going to my favorite place in the world.”

“I don't understand.” Jaskier said as Geralt rushed him though his flat and opened the window that led to a teeny tiny fire escape.

“You will. I think you don't have a playlist for that, though.” Geralt smiled and led Jaskier out the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave comments and kudos if you're liking it. I own it all to [@pinky_heaven19](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinky_heaven19/pseuds/pinky_heaven19) and her amazing story, so don't forget to check it out. Find me on [TUMBLR!](https://lovelygarroter.tumblr.com/) I'll try to update frequently.


	4. Chapter 4

When they emerged from the ladder and into the rooftop, Geralt first, he stopped and looked back to see Jaskier's reaction. He loved to show people the work he was most proud of.

“Holy shit,” Jaskier mumbled, looking around himself with his mouth hanging open. Geralt beamed with pride.

“Nice, isn't it?” He said, not able to contain himself. Taking care of his garden brought him more joy than the pub ever could.

“Are you kidding me? This is beautiful,” Jaskier said as he took a few steps forward, his eyes going from each plant and always coming back to the tree right in the middle of the roof.  
The tree was the center of attention in the space. It wasn't big, around four meters tall, but it was still impressive with its thick branches and dark green leaves. There was a small wooden bench underneath it, standing directly on the dirt floor.

The rest of the place was decked with light wood, and it was absolutely packed with flower pots, some as small as coffee mugs and some as big as barrels. Hanging from a metal frame around the whole place were more vases, filled with ferns of all kinds and lengths. To the opposite end of where they stood there was the wall from the building on the back of the pub, about 5 meters tall and it was completely covered in thick ivy.

To the right there was another wall, this one with apparent dark red bricks, just a little bit of ivy covering them. In this particular corner stood a long table with a wooden covering structure that was attached to the wall. Jaskier walked that direction, taking deep breaths of surprisingly fresh air.

“These are amazing,” he said, pointing at the several pots with succulents of all shapes.

“Thanks,” Geralt said, smiling so big his face was starting to hurt. He watched as Jaskier moved on to the side of the table with his small herb garden. He was trying to expand that, but he wasn't much of a cook anyway.

Jaskier ran his fingers through the basil leaves and smelled them.

“One of my favorite smells in the whole world,” he said with a shy grin.

“Mine too. Hey, this is my tea area,” Geralt said, pointing to long, rectangular pots that had all sorts of flavors growing. Fennel, lemongrass, mint and chamomile. All his favorites.

“No way, this is so cool. May I?” Jaskier asked, touching the mint leaves.

“Sure.”

Jaskier picked one out and put it in his mouth, chewing with his front teeth before letting it on his tongue.

“So delicious,” he said with a small piece stuck to his front teeth. Geralt decided not to say anything about it.

Jaskier walked the whole place, stopping every step to admire all the plants around him. Hydrangeas, lilacs, lilies, daisies, amongst many others. Of course they weren't in bloom yet, but they were still beautiful to look at. He stopped at a wild bush of red roses and smelled them.

“Do you know you can eat rose petals?” He asked, still not looking at Geralt, too fascinated with the place to turn his attention to him.

“Yeah, but they taste horrible.”

“My mum puts them in her tea sometimes. One petal in a pot and it doesn't taste so bad.”

“I can see where you got your weirdness from, then.” Geralt teased, but Jaskier barely listened to him.

“I feel like we're in another dimension. Like we stepped into another reality or something,” he said in a dreaming voice, “Like this can't actually be crowded, busy Lower Posada.”

“My feelings exactly. Come, let's sit and rest,” he motioned for him and walked to the bench, sitting with a sigh. The shades of the tree made the air feel pleasantly cool, which was exactly what he needed right now, given the fact that he was still feeling hot from all the cleaning.

Jaskier walked around the place one more time, letting his eyes be filled with green everywhere he looked, and finally got back to the bench. He smirked and took his trainers and socks off.

“What are you doing?” Geralt eyed him curiously.

“Sitting to rest,” he answered as he stood on the bench and grabbed a branch of the tree, pulling himself up and using his bare feet on the trunk as leverage to climb, groaning softly until he stood on a particularly firm branch and looked down at Geralt, who was staring at him in disbelief. “Come on up.”

Geralt had to clear his throat before speaking. The sight of Jaskier's back muscles under the thin fabric of the shirt as he climbed were a little too much for him. “I'm rather comfortable here, thank you.”

“Oh come on, you're telling me that you don't climb here to think every once in a while?” He asked, adjusting himself in a sitting position, his bare feet swinging beside Geralt's head.

“No, I'm not twelve.”

“You're right, you're as grumpy as if you were a sixty-year-old man who hasn't had sex in ages.”

Geralt grabbed Jaskier's big toe and pulled down on it hard, making Jaskier scramble for support.

“Hey!” Jaskier said as he laughed, seeming not to be bothered by that at all. Geralt looked up at him and smiled. Jaskier's hair was hanging around his face, framing it, and the crinkles by his eyes were on full display, giving him an adorable look that made Geralt's heart skip a beat.

They were silent for a few moments until Jaskier climbed down and sat next to Geralt. His hands had flakes of tree bark on them and he smelled like dirt.

“Did you do this all by yourself?” Jaskier asked, still admiring the place in awe. His feet were firmly planted on the ground, the tip of his toes digging into the dirt.

“Not all of it. That green wall there, covered in ivy, has been around for years. And I think my grandad planted this tree here. I've asked my dad about it, but he said he always remembered the tree being here and that he never cared to ask my grandad about it. I'm 99% sure he did it, because he had to bring all this dirt up here, you know. There's dirt under the wood pallets as well, about 40 centimeters of it.”

“Your grandpa must have loved gardening, then.”

“I think so, I never met him.”

“Why did you put the wooden deck in the first place? I would have put grass all over the place.”

“It used to be like that, but a few years ago I decided to change things up a bit. If I change my mind again all I have to do is rip it off.”

“Did you do it yourself?” Jaskier asked, looking at the carpentry work with furrowed brows.

“Yeah, I used to go out with a bloke who was a very good carpenter, he taught me a few tricks and helped me with most of it.”

“Aren't you a man of many talents.” Jaskier teased, nudging him on the side. Geralt giggled and moved away.

“This bench was already here, though,” he said as his hand tapped the dark wood, “all I had to do was give it a good coat of varnish and it lasted like that for a few years.”

“This is all incredible, Wolf,” Jaskier said, placing his hand on Geralt's arm and squeezing it. Geralt found himself looking directly into Jaskier's serious eyes, green all around him and blue staring at him. “You're very talented, this is the most amazing garden I've ever seen.”

“Now you're just lying.” Geralt said, blushing slightly. He was actually shy when it came to compliments.

“I'm really not, it's impressive. If I were you I'd never leave this place.”

“You're welcome to come anytime you want.” Geralt said before he could contain himself. It was just as surprising to him as it was to Jaskier that he actually meant that.

“Thanks, I'll break into your place and sneak up here when I feel like it, then,” he teased and squeezed Geralt's knee before standing up. “I have to get going now, you have to open this place soon and a shower would do you good.”

“Look who's talking. You literally have leaves in your hair right now.”

“I do? Do you think I should make a flower crown to go with them?” Jaskier said, but removed the leaves nonetheless.

“I'll pick you some when they're in bloom.” Geralt said and followed him down the steps. He noticed that Jaskier was taking a good look at his small flat when they returned, but said nothing about it. When they emerged in the bar area Geralt spoke again. “Thanks for all the help with the cleaning, I really appreciate it.”

“You're welcome.” Jaskier said as he grabbed a paper napkin and a pen from the counter and wrote something on it. He carefully folded it and slipped into the suggestion box that was forgotten in a corner.

“Another great suggestion?”

“My suggestions are always great, so yes,” he said with a smug smirk and picked up his phone from the counter. “Can I get your number to arrange for the photographs?”

“Sure.” Geralt picked the phone from his hand and entered his number, saving it as “Geralt from the pub” and adding a wolf emoji to it. He handed it back to Jaskier.

“Thanks. You'll go with me to meet the people, right?”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Yeah, I want to ask them a few questions and I doubt they'll open up much to a stranger. If you're with me I might get some decent stories.”

“Yeah, if you want me to, I can go,” Geralt said, looking down at his feet, feeling suddenly shy as if Jaskier was asking him on a date. It was ridiculous, really. “I'm free most mornings and Sundays.”

“Cool, can we arrange for something this weekend?” Jaskier asked, pocketing his phone and putting in his earplugs.

“Yeah, we'll text the details.”

“Great,” he said, walking to the door. “See you around, Wolf. Bye,” he waved and walked out the door. Geralt waved him back and as soon as Jaskier was out of sight he covered his face with his hands. What the hell was he getting himself into?

Geralt was able to contain himself and didn't text Jaskier once. He just stared at his profile picture on the texting app and thought about it. It was an extremely close up picture of his face and his tongue sticking out. Geralt was expecting something a little more artistic coming from a photographer, but you would never see him complaining. It was Friday night when Jaskier texted him and asked if they could visit someone on Sunday, and it was agreed that they would meet at the pub and walk from there.

On Sunday morning Geralt woke up early and tended to his garden for about an hour before taking a shower and getting dressed. It was a warm morning and he opted for jeans and a black top. It was ridiculous for him to be thinking about his outfit to meet Jaskier, yet there he was.

He was too jittery to wait until 9 o'clock, so he went up the garden one more time and got a pot with a succulent in it, one Jaskier seemed to like more than the others, and walked to his flat. When he got there, he stared at the intercom and let his finger hove over the “J. Pankratz” button. He hadn't been invited to Jaskier's place, hadn't announced himself and it was still 8:30. He was probably not ready yet and it was incredibly rude of Geralt to just barge in like that. He pressed the button anyway.

“Yeah?” A voice that didn't sound like Jaskier answered.

“Hum, hi. Jaskier? It's Geralt.”

“Geralt...? Oh, right! Come on up.” It definitely wasn't Jaskier speaking, but the door buzzed open and Geralt climbed the steps two at a time. It wasn't a second long before he knocked on the door and it was opened. There stood a man he'd never seen in his life. Yep, definitely not Jaskier. He was smiling just as big, though.

“Hey mate, come in. Nice to meet you. I'm Lambert.”

Geralt shook his hand and stepped inside. The man had a towel hanging from his shoulder and his short hair was damp.

“Jaskier is still in the shower. I thought you were meeting someplace else?” Lambert gave him a questioning look. “That's what he told me, anyway.”

Geralt cleared his throat. “Yeah, we were supposed to meet at the pub, but I decided to...hum.” He trailed off, not knowing how to explain why he was there. He didn't know it himself, if he was being honest.

Lambert walked to the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

“Tea?”

“No, thanks. I'm fine. Are you his flatmate or something?” He found himself saying before he could stop himself.

“His flatmate?” Lambert gave him a quick glance. “No, I'm not his flatmate.”

“Right.” Geralt stuffed his free hand in his pocket. His other hand was holding the stupid blue flower pot, which he never should have brought. He never should have come in the first place. Had he arrived five minutes early and he probably would have found them both still in the shower.

They stood in awkward silence as Lambert fixed two cups. That had been a terrible idea. He was about to say that he was going to wait for Jaskier downstairs when he finally walked out of the bathroom. A little bit of steam followed him out as he towel dried his hair and walked to them. He was wearing tight blue jeans only. Geralt could see the white line of his underwear peeking above his jeans and the fine line of dark hair below his navel.

He'd never seen even Jaskier's arms before, and to see him without a shirt on was more than he could handle. He let his gaze linger maybe just a little too long. Jaskier wasn’t a very buff man, but Geralt could make out his abs easily. They started right under all the chest hair and he had tattoos on his arms, one of them looked like a lute. Jaskier was an artist after all. He probably liked strange things.

Geralt felt his mouth fill with saliva as he watched the muscles on Jaskier's hips move when he walked, the beautiful shape of his v-line.

“Hey, Wolf,” he cheerfully greeted him, his smile reaching his ears. “I thought we were meeting at the pub.”

“Yeah, well. I was up early.” It was the only explanation he provided, and Jaskier nodded as if it made complete sense.

“I'm off.” Lambert said, grabbing a rucksack on the couch and walking towards them. He shook Geralt's hand one more time and gave Jaskier a quick peck on the cheek. “There's tea on the sink. See you later tonight?”

“Yeah, good luck in the game.” Jaskier waved him off and Geralt did the same, trying not to look as idiotic as he felt.

“It was nice to meet you, Geralt. I'll stop by at your pub some time, Jaskier tells me it has real character.”

“See you there, then.” Geralt was going to close the pub and never open it again.

“What's that?” Jaskier asked excitedly, pointing at Geralt's hand and sipping his tea.

“Oh, that? Hum, I noticed you liked the succulents the other day and that you have some plants here already, so. Yeah.”

“You brought me flowers, how sweet.” Jaskier teased and Geralt rolled his eyes, giving him the pot.

“They're not flowers. Just don't water it too much or the roots will rot and it will die.”

“Okay, thanks. I really liked it,” he said, and looked around his flat for a place to put them. Geralt snuck a look at his arms. “Do you think it'll be okay if I put it in my room? The windowsill there would be the perfect place for it, but it only gets sunlight in the mornings, though.”

“It's fine, they're tough little guys.”

“Great, be right back.”

Geralt could not stop staring at his back while Jaskier walked away. He pressed the tips of his fingers to his eyes and took a deep breath. Why was he so bothered about all that? Shirtless Jaskier, his boyfriend. These were things he should not be bothered by, and yet.

When Jaskier came back a few minutes later he had a pair of boots on and a white t-shirt. It was flimsy and Geralt could see the traces of his abs and chest hair underneath it, but it was still a shirt and Geralt was grateful for it. His hair was damp and extra messy. When Jaskier walked past him, he got a whiff of coconut and vanilla. God, was he screwed.

“Who are we meeting, today?” Jaskier asked and grabbed his own rucksack off the floor. He checked the contents in it and slung it over his shoulder. Geralt walked out the door and waited for Jaskier to close it.

“His name is Vesemir Bodnia, and he's a cobbler. He's had his shop in Lower Posada for 43 years.”

“Wow, that's exactly the kind of people I'm looking for!” Jaskier was as excited as a child while they walked to the man's house. “Was he okay with meeting me? Did you tell him about my project?”

“Yeah, he's cool with it. Says he hopes it will bring more people to his shop.”

“Do you think we can get a few pictures of him in his shop?”

“I don't know.”

“Does he live far from there? Do you think he could open it just for us?”

“I don't know if he'll do that.”

“You said he was cool about it, so maybe he-”

“I said I don't know, Jaskier. Jesus, you're so annoying today.”

Jaskier looked as if he'd been punched in the face. He opened his mouth to say something to Geralt, but closed it and didn't say a word until they reached the cobbler's house. Geralt felt like shit. He smiled and greeted Vesemir politely just the same.

“It's so good to see you, Geralt,” the smiling man invited them inside. “Now that it's getting warmer I'll stop by the pub more often.”

“We'd love that, it's great having you there,” Geralt walked in and closed the door after them. “This is Jaskier Pankratz.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bodnia. Thank you so much for agreeing to see me and welcoming me in your home,” he said in a firm handshake. Fuck, he was endearing when he wanted to.

“It's my pleasure to be interviewed like this. Tea?”

“Yes, please,” they said in unison and sat down on the old man's couch as Geralt made small talk. He could feel Jaskier's eyes on him but Geralt didn't look at him once. He was behaving like a stubborn child and he didn't care.

“So, you're here to take my picture, huh?” Vesemir asked Jaskier when they were almost finished with their tea.

“Yes, I'm looking for interesting people and you are very interesting, sir.”

“Nonsense. I've got nothing special to tell ya, to be honest.”

“I doubt that. Let's start with the basic, then. Can I record our conversation? It's easier than taking notes. If it's alright with you.”

“I don't mind it.”

“Great, thank you.” Jaskier set about getting the small recorder out of his rucksack and put it on the small coffee table between them. “When were you born, Mr. Bodnia?”

“I was born on April 7, 1952, right here in Lower Posada. Of course it wasn't named Lower Posada then, and things were quite different then.”

“When did you open your shop?”

“In 1972, I was twenty years old and had just gotten fired. My wife was pregnant with our first child and we needed money for baby things.”

“Do you remember your first client?”

And this went on for about an hour. Jaskier asked the man lots of questions, and Geralt stayed quiet for most of the time. He played games on his phone, he fixed his hair, he avoided looking at Jaskier. All he kept thinking about was the Lambert guy. The kiss he'd given Jaskier on his way out. On their plans for later that evening. It all made him angry for reasons he thought best not to investigate. God knows what he would find if he really thought about it.

“I think that's more than enough, Mr. Bodnia. Can I take your picture now?”

“I'm wearing a new shirt just for it,” the old man humored him, “there's a nice blank wall we can use in the kitchen.”

“No, please. I want to take your picture here, like this.”

“But the room is messy.”

“That's exactly why. I'm not saying it's messy,” he was quick to say, “it's just more characteristical of you. It has more personality, you see.”

“Well, suit yourself.”

Geralt watched Jaskier fumble with the camera settings and take several pictures of the old man. He moved around the room, trying different lightings and angles. He took pictures of Vesemir smiling, with a serious expression, talking and not even looking at the camera at all. Ten minutes later and they were done.

“Again, thank you so much, Mr. Bodnia. I really appreciate you doing this for me.” Jaskier shook the man's hand for the hundredth time as they walked out.

“Don't mention it. Make my shop famous, Jaskier.”

“I'll do my best, sir.”

“I hope to see you at the pub some day.”

“Me too, I'll print some of these photos and give them to you.”

“Thank you. Bye Geralt. See you tomorrow, if it doesn't rain.”

“Bye, Vesemir. Enjoy your Sunday.”

Geralt waited for them to turn the corner before speaking to Jaskier again.

“I thought you were going to ask him to take pictures in his shop.”

“I was, but you are clearly pissed at me, didn't want to make this any longer for you.”

Geralt hated to admit he was acting like a jerk to Jaskier, who seemed to be very upset about it.

“Anyway, thanks for bringing me.” Jaskier stopped walking and their eyes finally met. “I was going to ask you and Eskel to join me and Lambert tonight for dinner, but I guess I already know the answer to that.”

“Why would you want us there?” Geralt was confused.

“I thought it would be nice if we could all be, I don't know, friends or something.” Jaskier was purposefully avoiding Geralt's gaze now. “But you're doing a fine job at keeping that from happening.”

“All friends? Wait, isn't Lambert your boyfriend?”

“My boyfriend?” Jaskier snorted. “No, Lambert is not my boyfriend. He's my friend from home and he's visiting. He's crashing at my place for the weekend. What gave you that idea?”

“Well, I thought you were showering together before I got there this morning...” Wow, it sounded even stupider when he said it out loud.

“Lambert is my best friend, but as much as I love him, we keep from showering together. We took a nap together on the couch yesterday afternoon, but I think it hardly makes us boyfriends.”

“Right.” Geralt didn't think there was anything he could say that wouldn't make the moment even more awkward. Jaskier did it for him.

“Hang on, is that why you snapped at me and gave me the cold shoulder all morning? Because you thought Lambert was my boyfriend?” Jaskier's smile was wicked. “Are you jealous because of Lambert, Geralt Rivia?”

“Fuck off, I'm not jealous. I have mood swings and I'm grumpy, as you say it yourself all the time.” Geralt started walking again with Jaskier right at his heels.

“I'll pretend I believe you. Just so you know, I don't have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, by the way.”

“I never would have thought you had a girlfriend.” It was Geralt who snorted this time.

“Excuse me? I've already had a girlfriend. We were fourteen and didn't even kiss, but we wore promise rings and all.”

Geralt laughed at that, and finally turned to look at Jaskier. He caught him smiling and fixing his hair.

“Do you have a boyfriend, Geralt Rivia?”

“No, I don't have a boyfriend, Jaskier Pankratz.”

“Good. So we're just two singles guys in our twenties, hanging out. Two very attractive guys, I might add. Cool,” he took a deep breath and crossed his hands behind his back, “very cool.”

“You're such an idiot,” Geralt mumbled, but was smiling as he did so.

“So, wanna join us for dinner then?” Jaskier asked as they reached his building.

“I wish I could, but I'm meeting up with my mum.”

“Oh, that's sweet. We'll talk later then.”

“Yeah, I'll text you.”

“How romantic. Bye, Wolf.”

Geralt was stiff as Jaskier gave him a surprise hug. It was quick but strong, and then he was off into the building and Geralt was humming on his way home again.


	5. Chapter 5

Geralt sighed deeply and swallowed dry. It was already 9:30 at night and he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. There were still a few people at the pub and he didn't want to send them home, they were drinking and spending money after all.

“Long day, huh,” Eskel said and stood next to him, leaning on the counter. “You look like you are about to fall asleep right here.”

“Yeah, sleep is good. Sleep is nice.”

Eskel chuckled.

“You're out of this world, man. Why don't you go take a nap and I'll wake you up only to close the door after me?”

“Nah, I'm fine,” he yawned. “I just need one more cup of coffee.”

“You've had three, already.”

“Are you keeping a tab on how many cups of coffee I drink?” Geralt asked as he poured himself some. It was lukewarm but strong.

“You keep a tab on how many pints I drink.”

“Because you told me to! You said you wanted to tone it down a bit. I'm just being a good friend.”

Geralt's cell phone chimed. He took it out of his pocket and a smile lit his face up when he looked at the screen.

“Is that a message from Jaskier?” Eskel singsonged.

“What? Yeah, it is. But I'm not smiling about that.”

“Of course not. You hate his guts, I know that.” Eskel scoffed, but patted him on the shoulder as he walked past him.

Geralt looked at the screen once again.

_can I send you a cool pic?_

**i'm still at work, so no nudes pls**

_ha ha. you wish._

Geralt shook his head. Were they really flirting? Jaskier was so nice and kind, this could be not flirting at all. Just Jaskier being Jaskier. Geralt's phone chimed again and he smiled wide when he saw the picture.

“Hey Eskel, come see this,” he beckoned and Eskel looked over his shoulder.

“Is that Vesemir's picture that Jaskier took?”

“Yeah, isn't it nice?”

“Very, he should use that one for his project. Tell him that I said that. And that I do wish for some nudes, if he doesn't mind.”

“I didn't tell you to read the rest of the conversation, you snoop.” Geralt slapped Eskel's bum, who walked away giggling.

**it looks great, jaskier.**

_can i show you more and you help me choose which one is the best?_

**i'm still working, but i'll tell you when i'm off**

_ok, can i come over?_

Geralt looked at the screen and didn't know what to say. What did Jaskier mean by that? Three dots appeared as Jaskier started typing again.

_wow it took you a long tiem to reply. forget i said that. we'll talk more in the mornig. night, wolf :*_

Geralt thought about replying, it would be rude if he didn't, but he didn't know what to say. The people that were sitting at the table stood up and he was busy with them and closing the place. By the time he managed to go upstairs and look at his phone it was already almost eleven. He didn't want to risk waking Jaskier up. He replied the next morning.

**morning jaskier! wanna come to the pub later to show me the pics?**

He thought it was neutral enough, inviting him to come to the pub and all. It took Jaskier two full hours to reply and Geralt was losing his mind pathetically checking his phone every two minutes.

_afternoon, wolf! sorry i didnt reply earluer, i was working. i'm on my lunch break now, painting makes me hungry_

Geralt smiled at the use of the hamburger emoji at the end of the message.

**didn't know you painted, thought it was just photography**

_no, i'm painting as a wall painter. my drawing skills are still in the first grade-stick figures._

**nice! do you think you can come?**

Geralt was a little startled when the phone started ringing loudly in his hand with an incoming call from Jaskier. Okay, he could do that.

“Hello, Jaskier.”

“Hi, Wolf! Is this a bad time? Can you talk?"

Geralt looked around the pub, empty except for one woman sitting at the furthest table.

“Sure, I can talk.”

“Great,” Jaskier said, and Geralt could hear him chewing. “Today's been super busy, I was up at five in the morning, Geralt. Freaking five in the morning.”

Geralt chuckled. “Sorry to hear that. What are you painting?”

“This gigantic warehouse. I swear it's never going to be finished. We're a team of three and we'll grow old together painting this. By the time we finish I'm going to be old and no grandkids to keep me company. Chireadan looks nice, but I doubt we could start a family.”

Geralt laughed and could hear Jaskier chuckle on the other side of the line.

“You're funny on the phone.”

“I'm always funny.” Jaskier said, voice muffled by food.

“What are you eating?”

“You don't have to pretend to be interested, Wolf.”

“I really am. Tell me.”

“Well, I had some leftover yogurt. I have a lot, you know. So I mixed it up with some olive oil, some chopped spring onions and used it as a dressing for the sandwich. It's a ham and cheese one, with extra cheese but no crust.”

“That was probably the most detailed description of a sandwich that I've heard in my entire life.”

“You asked,” Jaskier said with a giggle. “I could tell you all about how I pet a stray dog on the way here. I could go on for hours talking about these things.”

“I'm sure you could, but I have some people here that need attention. Are you coming to the pub?”

“I'm not sure. I'll try, but we'll be here a while. Maybe if I'm not too tired I'll stop by. We need to visit more people, too.”

“Sure, someday this week still.”

But they didn't. Jaskier was so busy with his painting job that they couldn't manage a time to meet, much less talk and photograph more people. They texted occasionally, and Geralt would rather die than admit this to anyone else, but he missed Jaskier. He'd grown used to seeing him a few times a week, even if just for half an hour. He had all these plans, and had talked to at least three more people who'd agreed to participate in Jaskier's project, but no Jaskier to photograph them. He was too proud to ask him to meet, but to his luck, Jaskier wasn't.

Geralt had just gotten in bed and was plugging his phone to charge when it vibrated in his hand. He breathed a sigh of relief to see it was Jaskier.

“Hey, Jaskier.”

“I'm free! I have escaped from the prison called 'it needs one more coat' and I will not be dragged down there ever again!” Jaskier was practically screaming on the phone, and Geralt closed his eyes and laid on his back.

“All done?”

“Yep. I just got home, we all preferred to put in more hours to finish it tonight rather than working a couple of hours on Sunday morning. It looks great, Wolf. And the paycheck was awesome as well, but I don't think I'll take up this kind of job ever again. I can barely lift my arms, they hurt so much.”

“Don't be such a baby.” Geralt mocked, but he kind of felt sorry for him.

“You try moving your arms up and down a million times a day for six days straight. My shoulders are permanently damaged. I salute the people who do this for a living.”

“At least it's over, huh.”

“Yep. Listen, I'm going to shower, grab a bottle of champagne and I'm heading to your garden to celebrate, is that okay?”

Geralt looked at the clock. It was 11:15, but he was wide awake and too lonely to say no.

“Don't bother with the champagne, we have plenty of drinks here.”

“No, this one's on me. I feel like spending some of the money that I've made with my sweat and tears.”

“I'll be waiting, then.”

“I'll be there in thirty minutes.”

“If you are here in less than thirty, I will give you the best massage you ever had,” he half joked.

“Better hurry up, then!”

Jaskier hung up and Geralt sat up on the bed. He was wearing only his underwear and the rattiest t-shirt he owned and that he'd been wearing for a week straight. That wouldn't do. He put on a pair of sweatpants because he didn't want to look like he was trying too hard, but changed into a clean t-shirt under a grey hoodie and put on some trainers. He fixed his hair a bit and went down to the bar, unlocking the front door and sitting on a stool.

It took Jaskier forty-five minutes to get there, and by the time he did Geralt had already had a shot of vodka to calm himself.

“I'm home, honey,” Jaskier announced himself as he entered the room carrying the champagne in one hand and his rucksack in the other. He wore jeans that, for once, didn't look like they were painted on him, and a light purple jumper. His damp hair was frizzy and bouncy. He had a little bit of a stubble, and Geralt discovered he quite liked that.

“Hi, Jas.” Geralt said without thinking. He walked to Jaskier and had to resist the urge to kiss that smiling face. Jaskier was positively beaming. Geralt could see a small smudge of paint on Jaskier's neck. A few specks on his face and hands as well. “It took you more than thirty minutes to get here, so no massage for you.”

“Damn paint in the hair that takes forever to wash,” he said with a half smile. “I'm so happy to be here again. I've missed coming to this place.”

“Didn't you miss my pretty face as well?” Geralt said, locking the door of the pub and walking them up the stairs to his flat.

“Not more than I missed your pretty bum.”

Geralt barked a laugh.

“You're a little shit.”

“I meant it as a compliment.” Jaskier said, and followed him across his flat and up the stairs, tucking the bottle away in his rucksack. He groaned every time he had to move his arms up the steps to get to the roof.

“Are you really in pain?” Geralt asked, concerned. But Jaskier seemed to have forgotten all about it while he was looking at the garden around them.

“Took some painkillers before coming, they should kick in soon. Man, this place looks gorgeous at night. It looks like it's shining.”

Jaskier had a point. It was a full moon after all and even if it wasn't, the lights from the street and the buildings around them were enough to keep the place from absolute darkness.

“I've been meaning to put up a couple of lamp posts, like the ones you see downtown, but they're expensive and the wiring will be a pain.”

“I can help you hook them up, if you want to. I've done some wiring jobs.”

“What haven't you done?” Geralt asked as he took the bottle from Jaskier's rucksack and worked on opening it.

Jaskier thought for a while before answering. “Stripping. It's something I've never done before, but I think it would be super fun.”

“I can see you working a pole, yeah.” Geralt said thoughtfully.

“Don't get too carried away in your imagination or I'll ask you to put some money down my pants.”

“Thought you were loaded after this gig. Voila!” He managed to get the champagne open.

“My rent and utilities will suck up most of it. But at least I can concentrate on the photography project now.”

“True. Let me get down real quick and get some glasses.” Geralt said, handing Jaskier the bottle.

“No need for glasses,” he said and took a big gulp out of the bottle. Geralt smiled as he offered it to him and took a swig himself. It was cheap champagne, he knew, but it bubbled and fizzed inside his mouth and stomach deliciously.

“Do you serve champagne at the bar?" Jaskier asked, bottle in his hands as he walked around the garden, getting another mint leaf and chewing on it. Geralt watched him move gracefully, with lazy steps.

“Not really.”

“Why not?” Jaskier asked, coming around and sitting on the bench. Geralt sat next to him.

“It's just not something that my grandpa served, and neither did my dad, so I didn't.”

“You just followed their footsteps, huh?” Jaskier sipped the champagne and handed it to Geralt. The bottle was already half empty.

“I guess so. I do things as they did, that's for sure.”

“Is that why the pub is a little...outdated? Please don't be offended, it's just that if you compare it with other pubs, there are many things that are different. Not in a bad way, of course. What I mean is...” Jaskier took a shuddering breath and Geralt placed his hand on his knee, rubbing it gently before moving it away.

“I know what you mean, and I'm not offended. I know the pub could use some improvement, it's just that...I don't know.”

“What?” Jaskier insisted, and Geralt could see his eyes shining even in the dimly lit garden. He took a deep breath and looked up, avoiding Jaskier's gaze.

“It's just that my dad didn't need to serve fancy drinks or have a Facebook page to get this place going, you know? People came because they liked him and the cheap beer. And that floor is an absolute pain to clean, but it was how my grandpa liked it so I think it would be insulting to his memory to change it,” Geralt rubbed his eyes with his hands and drank two big gulps of champagne. “And finances are terrible, and I think I have a pretty good idea of what I have to do to make it better, I just....don't seem to care enough to do it. It's all stupid, I know.”

Geralt took a deep breath and stared at the floor, to where Jaskier's right foot was touching his.

“It's not stupid,” Jaskier said, his voice soothing, and Geralt felt his warm hand on his shoulder. He finally turned his gaze to Jaskier's direction and saw that he was completely serious. “I understand why you don't wanna change. But don't beat yourself up about it, it's a different world with different people, the things that worked for your dad won't work for you. It's not your fault.”

Geralt let out a humorless laugh.

“It's funny because Eskel says the same thing, that I'm doing my best and I'm just really not. I'm really not doing my best. Which is shit, because this pub is my family legacy and I'm screwing it up.”

“Well, maybe it doesn't have to be a family legacy,” Jaskier was close and Geralt could definitely smell him and feel how his thigh was touching his own. “Did you always want to run this place?”

“I guess so. I always knew I was going to, one day, when my dad died. I just didn't think it would be so soon.”

“No, I'm not talking about knowing you would, I'm talking about wanting to do it.”

Geralt had to look away from him. He'd told himself for such a long time that this was what he was meant to be doing, that he almost believed it. He was afraid of what Jaskier might see if he kept looking at him like that.

“Should I stop talking?” Jaskier asked, his hand leaving Geralt's shoulder and sitting a little further from him. “I know I can be too much sometimes.”

“You're not too much and you shouldn't stop talking. You have a nice voice.”

“is that you or the champagne talking?” Jaskier asked with a smirk.

“I've only had like...two proper glasses? It's hard to measure in gulps.”

“I know this is going to be my last one,” Jaskier said and drank just a little. “I'm feeling tipsy already.”

“Are you serious? A man your size and you're tipsy from just a little bit of champagne?” Geralt asked with an incredulous smile.

“I have a very low alcohol tolerance.” Jaskier sounded serious, but his face showed his amusement.

“Never go out drinking with Eskel, then. You'd be in an alcohol induced coma before his cheeks even turned a little pink.”

“Eskel must be a very fun drunk. I like to imagine he dances.”

“Ballet is his favorite to perform,” Geralt said and Jaskier laughed, his crinkles showing up and his eyes sparkling. “What do you do when you're drunk, Jas?”

“Make bad decisions, that's why I avoid doing it.”

The look he gave Geralt was so meaningful that he had to stand up and walk around for a bit, hands in his pockets. He turned around just in time to see a leaf fall off the tree and land on Jaskier's hair. He snorted.

“What?” Jaskier asked, smiling but suspicious.

“Don't move, there's a bug in your hair.”

“A bug?” Jaskier's eyes bulged. “What bug? Get it off of me.” He moved his hands frantically but without moving his head.

“Don't move, it might sting you.” Geralt said and carefully walked back to Jaskier, who was biting his lip nervously.

“Sting? Is it a bee? Is it a wasp? I hate wasps.”

“Be still,” Geralt whispered, and caught the brown, dead leaf off his head. “There, saved you.”

Jaskier looked at the leaf in Geralt's hand and back at Geralt's face, who couldn't help but burst into laughter.

“You're an idiot, Geralt,” he said, grabbing the leaf from Geralt's hand and twisting it around his finger. He sounded truly annoyed.

“I'm sorry, but you should have seen your face, it was so funny.” Geralt said, sitting down and clutching his stomach.

“If I ever see a bee in your hair, don't expect me to get it off for you.” Jaskier spat, and Geralt felt a little guilty. Just a little.

“Are you allergic?”

“No, but I'd still rather not get stung, it hurts like hell.” Jaskier said and flicked the leaf at Geralt's face.

“I'm sorry, Jas. Won't do it again.” Geralt said and ruffled Jaskier's hair. It was cold and still a little damp.

“Now I'll never believe you when there's an actual bug in my hair,” he mumbled, but he didn't sound too annoyed anymore.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, feeling the cold wind blowing softly. Jaskier watched as more leaves fell, gathering around the bench they were sitting. The foliage of the tree was still beautiful, but some of its branches were almost bare.

“It's a little sad, isn't it? To watch the season change so closely like you do.” Jaskier mused.

“You mean when fall comes? When it gets snowy?”

“Yeah, it looks so beautiful and then you have to watch it all die.”

“But then I watch it all grow again. Spring is almost here and everything will look even more beautiful than before. The fallen leaves served their purpose.”

“And what's that?” Jaskier asked, turning his attention back to Geralt's eyes and putting his hands in his pockets.

“To feed the roots of the tree. It's all very poetic, when you think about it.”

“How come?”Jaskier asked, and much to Geralt's surprise, Jaskier turned his body sideways on the bench, letting his feet touch the floor beside the bench and laid his head on Geralt's lap. He stared up at him with big eyes, just waiting for Geralt's reply.

“Hum. Think of the tree as your life, the people you know.” Geralt was very much aware of his hands by his sides, and risked resting one in Jaskier's hair sprawled on his thigh. “All the leaves are the people you know, people who are part of your life. You have the very first ones that pop, those can be your parents, always there from the beginning,” he started running his fingers on Jaskier's scalp.

“That's nice,” he sighed contentedly, his eyes fluttering close for just a brief second before focusing on Geralt's again.

It took Geralt a moment to continue, too caught up in Jaskier's features. The dimly lit roof made them softer, and he looked beautiful.

“Then you have the leaves that appear just as you do, which are your classmates, cousins, siblings, neighborhood kids. You grow with them, flourish in their company. They may stay and they may go. It depends on the winter, how hard things are. Your close friends are the ones that never fall, never leave your side.”

“Like Eskel, for you.” Jaskier said with a smile. “And Lambert, for me.”

“Yeah, like Eskel for me. He's been with me through many winters.”

“And what is the purpose of the falling leaves in this case?”

“They are extremely important, you see. You meet quite a number of leaves in your life. When they fall, they nourish the ground with memories, happy memories of the times you spent together. They feed your tree with what you need to keep growing.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and said nothing for a while. Geralt kept running his fingers through his hair.

“Are you getting sleepy?” He asked, tenderly.

“No, I'm just thinking. What you said was very nice, and I'm thinking about the tree of my life right now.”

“I imagine you have quite a lot of branches with quite a lot of leaves.”

“Not many that have stayed, though.”

“You can always meet more.” Geralt said and Jaskier smiled and opened his eyes.

“That's right. Light green, new leaves.”

Geralt hummed in response and Jaskier sat back up.

“Thanks for telling me this,” he said softly, and his look was deep and relaxed.

“Thanks for listening.”

Jaskier smiled in response and looked up.

“For some silly reason I thought I'd be able to see more stars from here.”

“Well, you are sitting under the canopy of the tree, so...” Geralt teased, the moment losing some of its depth.

“Even when I'm not,” Jaskier added, “I get the feeling that I'm some place else and that all this light pollution will magically disappear and I'll be able to photograph the stars in a long exposure shot and capture their movement. Or the Earth's movement. Anyway, I was kind of hoping for that. Can I still take some pictures while I'm up here? The city lights look so gorgeous and it's difficult to get a good angle from the ground.”

“Knock yourself out.”

Jaskier stood up and Geralt watched him in a new light. He was impressed at how quickly Jaskier set up a tripod he'd gotten from his rucksack right on the edge of the roof, maybe too close for comfort.

“If you drop your camera I'll laugh.” Geralt warned him, but Jaskier waved him off.

“Can't take a proper picture if not here. Maybe I could climb the tree and take pictures from up there...” he said, looking like he was actually considering it.

“No way, if you break your camera is one thing, but it's dark and you might fall and break your neck. Nu-huh.”

“Fine, mom.” Jaskier mocked and went back to adjusting his camera settings and walked back to where Geralt was sitting. “It's a long exposure one, it's gonna take a while,” he explained and took the bottle from Geralt's hand.

“I thought you were done for the night.”

“Me too, but I was thinking to myself how bad of a decision could I make when it's just the two of us here.”

Jaskier looked at him so intensely that Geralt felt his face hot. He was better than that, he knew. Still, he couldn't hold his gaze for more than a few seconds. Jaskier sat next to him and took a sip.

“So, what would you be doing with your life if you weren't running the pub?”

“This, probably,” and he gestured around them. “This is probably what makes me happiest, but what money is there in gardening?”

Jaskier nodded. “I think there's a lot of money in landscaping. How much money is there in running the pub?” He shot back.

“Touché. It'd be a miracle if I managed to keep it open until the end of the year.”

“Is it that bad?” Jaskier sounded and looked concerned.

“We don't get any new customers coming, and the old ones just don't spend enough.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” and he actually sounded sorry. He got up and went to his camera, taking more and more photos. “It sucks when doing what you like doesn't get you anywhere. Financially, I mean.”

“Tell me about it. I should have married rich.”

Jaskier chuckled. He looked back to see Geralt smiling at him. God, he looked absolutely beautiful.

“There's still time, you know. You might have a few more years of good hair.” Jaskier raised his brows and Geralt giggled.

“I'll have plenty more years of good hair, thank you very much.”

“Sure you will.” Jaskier mocked and turned his attention back to his camera. Geralt tried not to stare at his butt when he bent down to change the height of the tripod. “I know I'm imposing, but could I come back and take some more pictures of the garden when it's day?”

“If you want, we can visit a new person for your project tomorrow and then come back here. My phone says it's gonna be sunny and dry.”

“That would be awesome, thanks.” Jaskier turned his camera off and started to fold back his tripod. “So I'll get going, I've taken too much of your free time tonight.”

Geralt looked at his phone. “It's barely one, you can stay longer if you want.” God, why was he being so desperate? He needed to act cool or Jaskier would tease him mercilessly.

“Nah, we'll have plenty of time tomorrow. Thanks for celebrating with me.” Jaskier said, adjusting his rucksack on his shoulders.

“Some celebration it was, drinking half a bottle of champagne and listening to me ramble.”

“You weren't rambling.”

“Whining.”

“We were talking,” he handed the bottle to Geralt. “Here, you can drink the rest of it.”

Which Geralt did, later that night, after Jaskier had already left and he couldn't sleep. It was warm and not so fizzy anymore, but it served its purpose, which was to relax his brain to the point where he would stop imagining what it would be like to kiss Jaskier and go to sleep already. It barely worked.


	6. Chapter 6

It was more than two months later when they were finally at the end of the list of people Jaskier was going to photograph. They were walking back to the pub after interviewing the last person on their list, the 26-year-old tattoo artist that had opened her shop in Lower Posada less than a year ago but who had incredible stories to tell.

“You know what you should do?” Geralt asked Jaskier as they cornered the pub. “You should go beyond this photography project and write a book about these people or something.”

“A book? I couldn't write a book,” Jaskier replied, adjusting his sunglasses on his face. Geralt hated them, hated anything that covered Jaskier's eyes, especially when they looked so brightly blue in the sun.

“Why not? You're the one who's always telling me I can do anything I want.”

“I say that because I know you have other talents.”

“You have talents.” Geralt wiggled his brows and Jaskier giggled.

“That's true. I knit.”

“Bullshit, you don't knit. I, on the other hand, actually crochet.” Geralt said with a proud smile.

“Are you for real?”

“I spent a lot of time with my grandma when I was growing up.”

“Will you make me a beanie?”

“Summer's right around the corner and you want a beanie? Doesn't all your hair make your head warm enough?” Geralt asked and quickly ran his fingers through Jaskier's hair. The wind was going to town at it and he desperately needed a comb.

“I think I'm going to cut it. It's getting pretty long.” Jaskier said, rolling the tips of his hair around his fingers.

“No!” Geralt blurted out before he could stop himself. He saw the half-smile that Jaskier tried to hide. “I mean, it's your hair. You can cut it if you want to. You can shave your head for all I care.”

“I'll think about it for a little longer,” Jaskier said and followed Geralt inside the pub. Geralt should try to do a better job of hiding how much he liked Jaskier's hair.

They were greeted by a cheerful Eskel.

“Hi lads, how did it go with Yen?

“Perfect, she's very photogenic,” Jaskier said and plopped down on a stool. It was still 11:15 and the pub was completely empty. It was slow for a Saturday.

“I think it's the purple contact lenses and black hair,” Eskel said, “was thinking about trying that color myself.”

“You should stick to blonde, mate.” Geralt said as he grabbed him and Jaskier a couple of water bottles.

“Why not let it grow to its natural color? You'd look great with darker hair, Eskie.” Jaskier said as he ruffled Eskel's hair.

“Jaskier is thinking about cutting his hair, you know,” Geralt informed him.

Eskel looked at Jaskier incredulously.

“Don't do that. That would be cutting off half of Geralt's wanking material. Shave your chest hair and this boy will be dry as a desert.”

The sound of Jaskier's laughter was so loud that it muffled Geralt aggravated hiss.

“What the fuck, Eskel? Shut up!”

Jaskier was still laughing, arms on the counter and his face hiding in between them. When he looked up his face was red and there was an actual tear running down his face.

“It was a stupid joke, I don't wank thinking about you.” Geralt was as red as pepper, and if looks could kill Eskel would have been dead already.

“Sorry for laughing, it was the way Eskel said it that—” and he burst into giggles again, Eskel following him, and Geralt had had enough.

He went to the kitchen, humiliated. He paced back and forth, trying to walk his embarrassment off. He could still hear them laughing and refused to go back.

“Hey, Wolf. I have to get going,” Jaskier shouted through the closed door. “Thanks for coming with me, have a great day. Hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

The innuendo in Jaskier's tone did not go unnoticed and Geralt groaned, frustrated, leaning against the sink.

“Hey, mate,” he heard Eskel coming in the kitchen, “sorry about that. Are you really mad?”

Geralt turned to him and Eskel looked anxious.

“You know why I'm so embarrassed and pissed off?”

“Because what I said is true?” Eskel tried with a tentative smile.

“Yep.” Geralt slowly sank to the floor. Eskel sat next to him, crossing his ankles.

“You should do something about it, mate. You're going to make yourself crazy like that.”

“Should do what about it?”

“Ask him on a date. I'm sure he'd love that.”

Geralt snorted.

“He would either think I was joking or the tension between us would be unbearable.”

“Wolf, you've been flirting back and forth for months now.”

“Exactly! And nothing's happened. Besides, he's a big flirt and I don't think he means half of what he says.”

“You're joking, right? He's always touching you, always near you.”

“He's always touching you as well. Jaskier is a very...touchy kind of person.”

“Geralt, I'm your friend and I mean it in the nicest possible way,” Eskel said softly, but then he practically screamed in Geralt's ear. “Wake up and smell the coffee! Jesus, the sexual tension between the two of you is just so... it's painful to watch, honestly.”

Geralt sighed. Eskel had a point. But it had been like that for months. Ever since that night they took pictures on the roof garden, they'd grown particularly close.

They'd hung out in that garden more times than Geralt could count. Jaskier was fascinated by the blooming flowers and would spend hours photographing every aspect of the place. Geralt would never admit to that, but he'd been lurking in Jaskier's Instagram and felt helplessly proud when Jaskier posted a picture of the bench under the tree with the caption “my favorite place to be”. Geralt couldn't agree with him more.

Jaskier was at the pub almost every night, except when he had some work with night shifts, and Geralt was never in a bad mood when he was around. They'd talk and laugh. Jaskier always indulged Eskel when he was doing his impressions, the same way Eskel indulged him in his knock-knock jokes. They were terrible and Geralt laughed at every single one of them.

Many days they went up to the garden after Geralt locked up to eat something. Sometimes Eskel joined them, sometimes not. Geralt appreciated both ways but felt his stomach flutter a little more when it was only him and Jaskier.

Not that they acted differently when they were alone than when they were with company. Jaskier was unashamed of gentle touching, always with a hand on Geralt's arm or leg, sometimes pulling Geralt's hair off of his face. Neither Eskel nor Lambert said anything about it (Jaskier had shyly asked Geralt if he could bring Lambert to see the garden when he was next in town). Now that Geralt knew that there was nothing romantic going on between Jaskier and Lambert, he thought he was quite the nice lad.

There were Fifa games in Geralt's place and table tennis at Jaskier's. There was walking around the neighborhood to talk and photograph the people Geralt pointed out. There were tennis matches watched at Eskel's. There were tube trips to central Aedirn on Sunday afternoons to visit any artistic space in the hopes of getting Jaskier's pictures part of an exhibition.

There were weekly footie matches, in which Jaskier played terribly, but Geralt looked forward to them every week. There were nocturnal drinking sessions in the roof garden. There were visits to touristic spots with a few rare selfies. There was one specific stance of a shirtless and wet Jaskier that made Geralt unable to sleep at night.

“I'll see what I can do about it, okay?” Geralt said with a sad smile and patted Eskel's knee before standing up.

“You better kiss him before I do.” Eskel joked and followed Geralt back into the pub. Still no customers.

“Don't you dare.” Geralt faked anger.

“I had a wet dream about him once, ya know,” Eskel continued, “couldn't look him in the eyes for days afterward, though.”

“Who don't you have wet dreams about?” Geralt shook his head.

“I wish I could say you.”

“Eww,” was Geralt's only reply before laughing along with Eskel.

Geralt really had to do something about his situation with Jaskier. Of course, he didn't.

~~x~~

It was a half past three on a Wednesday afternoon, not two weeks afterward, that Jaskier burst into the pub, his face flushed and sweaty, and his wide eyes almost jumping out of their sockets. Eskel and Geralt exchanged a worried look.

“Wolf! Eskel!” he shouted, startling a man who was sitting by the bar.

“What's wrong, Jas?” Geralt tried to sound calm but failed.

“I'm terribly sorry, sir,” Jaskier was saying to the man, and he took a deep breath before turning his attention back to Eskel and Geralt, who had walked around the counter and were standing directly in front of him. “Oh boy, I came running and I need a moment,” he said, bending and putting his hands on his knees, head hanging between his arms.

“What happened?” Eskel couldn't keep the worry away from his voice either.

Geralt stood next to Jaskier and put his hand around his waist. Jaskier looked up at him with a smile.

“You're not gonna believe this,” he said, grinning brightly.

“What is it?”

“There's a place downtown that is going to show my pictures at the end of the month!”

“What?!” Both Geralt and Eskel said in unison.

“Yeah! You know the place we never even tried to ask because we knew they would never even consider the idea? The posh place downtown, next to the diner that looks like it came straight out of Sherlock?”

“No way!” Geralt's grin matched Jaskier's now. “Are you serious? Because if this is a prank, it's a mean one.”

“I'm serious!” Jaskier said and started to run his hands through his hair. “Even I couldn't believe it at first. You know I always carry the proofs with me, and I was just walking by it when I thought 'hey, what have I got to lose?' so I walked in and talked with some people. Long story short, they loved my idea even before I showed the pictures. When they saw it, we shook hands and it was a deal.”

“That's amazing, Jas,” Geralt said and he was so proud of Jaskier, so so proud. Before he could congratulate him, Eskel beat him to it. He crushed Jaskier in a hug and gave him a loud kiss on both of his cheeks. Jaskier laughed and kissed Eskel back.

When Eskel let go of him, his eyes turned to Geralt, who hugged him just as tight. Jaskier's neck was damp as Geralt nuzzled him. He felt the muscles on Jaskier's back shift under his hands as he held him close.

“I'm so proud of you,” he said in Jaskier's ear.

“Thanks. Thank you for helping me.”

He let Geralt go but kept him at arm's length. Geralt watched as Jaskier's eyes went to his mouth, and for a wild second, he was sure Jaskier was going to kiss him, right where they were standing. His thoughts must have shown on his face because Jaskier looked down, biting his lips.

“It's the adrenaline, sorry,” he mumbled before letting Geralt go. Geralt had no time to say anything as Jaskier's phone rang loudly in his pocket. “It's Lambert, I called him on the way here to tell him the news and he didn't pick up.”

Jaskier answered the phone and walked to a corner, a huge smile on his face.

“That's great news, huh,” Eskel said and he looked even happier than usual. Geralt nodded.

“Jaskier deserves it.”

He wanted to tell Eskel about the almost kiss. But Eskel saw that as well and chose not to talk about it. Either way, Geralt was shaken by it. He watched as Jaskier paced around, talking loudly on the phone. Jaskier looked up and caught Geralt staring. He smiled wide and gave him a thumbs up. Geralt did the same and tried not to think too much about the moment they'd shared. He knew it was going to ruin him if he thought about it too much.

Jaskier hung up and came back to him.

“I need to go back to the gallery, they want to look at everything I want to showcase,” he sounded as excited as a puppy, and Geralt couldn't blame him for it. “Need to go to my place to gather everything up.”

“I'm sure they'll love everything.”

“I hope so. I'd hate to leave a single story and photo out.” Jaskier said, taking a napkin from the counter and quickly scribbling on it. He walked to the far corner where the suggestion box was and slid it there. “I'll call you later to talk details.”

“Sure. Bye, Jaskier. Congratulations again.”

“Bye, Wolf,” he smiled widely at him, his crinkles showing, “thanks. Bye Eskie!” He half-shouted and Eskel shouted bye back.

Geralt watched as he left with his stomach up his throat.

This feeling didn't leave him all the month leading up to the “premiere”, as he liked to call it. It was a night set up only for influential people in the art business to look at the photographs, still not open to the public. It was apparently going to be a very chic cocktail party and he'd teased Jaskier about it endlessly.

But now that the big night had come, jokes were the last thing in Geralt's mind.

“How do I look?” He shyly asked Eskel, emerging from the pub's kitchen after two whole minutes of careful consideration. It wasn't like there was a back door to escape from anyway. Eskel turned to him and his whole expression changed.

“Mate! Look at you, Geralt. All dressed up!”

Geralt was wearing a pair of skinny black jeans – not as skinny as those Jaskier wore, but still very flattering to his figure. He had on black shiny shoes and a blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He'd put considerable effort into his hair. He'd called his sister for help, and he only had to re-wash his hair in the sink two times in failed attempts of too much product.

“Is it...too much?” He asked, unsure. “Too little? Should I put a coat over the shirt? A tie?”

“It's fine, mate. You're wearing a dress shirt and shoes, formal but casual. It's hardly an award-winning night, you'll be fine. You look great.”

“Thanks.” Geralt smiled with his lips closed. “I better get going, don't wanna be late.”

“I thought it only started at seven-thirty.”

“Yeah, but Jaskier wants me there at six-thirty, said he wanted to show me something before the other people started to arrive.”

“Before you go, we need to take a selfie!” Eskel said and quickly grabbed his phone. Geralt rolled his eyes but obliged, standing next to him and allowing him to take a picture.

Eskel turned the phone to see and scolded him. “Don't frown your face! It's no time for serious faces! You're clean-shaven and your hair doesn't look like you just got out of bed. Just smile, okay?”

“Fine,” Geralt reluctantly agreed, but he asked Eskel to send him the picture nonetheless. “Now I have to go, I don't wanna be late.” He said, quickly returning to the kitchen to grab a carefully wrapped box. “Thanks for handling the place alone on a Saturday night, I really appreciate it,” he said before walking around the counter and towards the door.

“Have fun, Wolf!” Eskel said and Geralt waved him back.

The station wasn't far from the pub, and he only had to walk a few blocks before catching the tube. He fumbled with his phone for the whole ride, constantly checking the time. It was 6:32 when he arrived at the art gallery to find its doors closed. He stood there, not knowing exactly what to do, so he did the next logical thing and knocked.

The door opened up a few seconds later when a dark-haired woman in a smart red dress looked him up and down before saying “We're still closed.”

“I'm here to see Jaskier. Jaskier Pankratz, the photographer whose pictures are being shown tonight.”

“And you are...?”

“Geralt Rivia.”

“Oh, right!” The name seemed to ring a bell. “Right this way, Mr. Rivia.”

Geralt followed her a few steps to the reception desk.

“Your friend has managed quite an impressive feat. It's very rare we allow first-timers to showcase such a big project in our building,” she said as she checked his name on a list of guests.

“Well, he's very talented.” Geralt couldn't hide the pride from his voice.

“Let me take this,” she said and took the present in Geralt's hands. “He'll receive gifts later.”

“But I wanted to give it to him persona—”

“His pictures are in the right hall, that way,” she pointed in the direction of a wide doorway to Geralt's right. “Mr. Pankratz is already in there.”

Geralt took a deep breath, dried his sweaty hands on his jeans, and started walking.

His jaw dropped when he saw the place. He'd never entered that specific art gallery, but he knew, compared to the other ones he'd visited, that it was in a whole other level of greatness.

The polished dark hardwood floor was so shiny it sparkled. The walls in the double-height ceiling were white, a perfectly neutral background for the art to be shown. High windows, close to the ceiling, were framed by dark wood. In the center of the ceiling hung a crystal chandelier, the most magnificent one Geralt had ever seen.

Along the walls, at eye-level, hung the pictures Jaskier had taken. All as big as paintings, but no frame around them to make sure they stood out on their own. Bright spotlights illuminated them. Under the pictures, there were plaques with papers Geralt couldn't read from a distance. Across the room, there was a bar, fully stocked with all kinds of drinks. And, talking to the bartender, was Jaskier.

“Jas...” Geralt whispered without realizing.

Jaskier was simply breathtaking. Dressed in skin-tight black jeans and a white silk shirt, he was a vision. The sleeves went down his elbows and the first three buttons were undone, revealing a glimpse of the hair he had on his chest, and the front of it was tucked into the waistband of his jeans. Geralt smiled when he saw the golden boots he wore. They were so Jaskier that he couldn't help but smile.

Jaskier had apparently spent some time on his hair as well, given that it was more defined than usual and with a lot more volume. He looked absolutely gorgeous.

Jaskier only saw him when he was halfway across the room, and the happiness in his smile when he saw Geralt made his heart flutter in his chest.

“Wolf!” He exclaimed and enveloped him in a tight hug. Geralt melted into it, supporting Jaskier’s weight as he gripped him tight. “I'm so happy you're here,” he murmured in Geralt’s ear. Jaskier must have felt Geralt's whole body shuddering at the hot breath of air against his neck.

“Look at you, Jaskier,” he held him at arm's length, not bothering to hide his shameless staring as he looked at him up and down. “You look amazing.”

“You really think so? I was afraid the boots were a little too much,” he said, and he sounded shy all of a sudden.

“They're perfect. The only problem is that they make you even taller than you already are. Now we look the same height.”

Jaskier grinned at him and Geralt hugged him again.

“I think I've said it a million times this past month, but I really am very proud of you.”

“I can hear it a million times more. You smell nice.”

“Aftershave,” Geralt ran his fingers across his face. “You smell nice, too.”

“Deep conditioning mask,” Jaskier answered with a flick of his hair. Geralt laughed and squeezed his arm. “You look very handsome, Wolf. I particularly like your hair.”

“Thanks, it only took me one hour to make this stupid man bun.” Jaskier laughed at that. “Come on, show me around.” Geralt asked, and Jaskier locked their arms together with a flare before walking Geralt to a close picture. It was of the bus driver whose route passed right in front of the pub.

The man was posing in front of the bus, in his uniform, with his hands on his waist and a huge smile on his face. Geralt remembered that day, they talked to him while riding the bus as he couldn't just stop driving to talk to them. Jaskier had tried to take his picture while he drove but only ended up falling on Geralt's lap when the bus started moving again. It had been a good day.

Written on the paper on the plaque was

_Emhyr Emreis – 02/08/1977_

_Born in Cintra, Emhyr has been driving the same route in Lower Posada since he started working as a bus driver in 1997, his second job at the time. Known for memorizing the names and stops of the locals, he is also famous for his constant good mood and witty jokes. Emhyr has a wife and two children, both of whom want to follow in his footsteps: Fiona as a train conductor and Ciri as an airplane pilot. At the end of the day, Emhyr likes to enjoy the company of his friends at the pub Witcher's._

“This is so great, Jaskier. Everybody is going to love this,” he glanced at Jaskier, who was looking at him anxiously.

“What?”

“I want to show you something else. I don't want you to be mad, okay?”

“Okay...” Geralt agreed and let himself be led to a far corner of the room, where the last picture hung. His eyes widened when he saw the picture in front of him.

“This doesn't have to be shown in the gallery, okay? We can take it down right now if you want to. I've already talked to the staff and they're on standby to get this down in a matter of minutes if you don't approve of it.”

Geralt could barely hear what Jaskier was saying. Instead, he stared at the picture. His picture.

“When did you take this?” He asked, still not looking at Jaskier.

“It was that first picture I took of you, remember? You were laughing, and I took it and you got mad at me.”

Geralt remembered now. In the picture, he was at the bar area of the pub, looking up and laughing. His eyes were crinkled, his white hair was messy, the collar of the jean jacket he was wearing was wrinkled and he needed a shave, but it was a beautiful picture. He had to admit it was quite amazing, actually. The warm lighting, the angle, how the focus was only on him, and how the bottles behind him were blurred.

He gazed down at the plaque and read:

_Geralt Rivia – 06/08/1991_

_Born in the heart of Lower Posada and a true football fan, Geralt is the current owner of the pub Witcher's, which he inherited from his father at the age of 21. Geralt spends his days working and tending to his passion: gardening. Proud owner of a rooftop garden, Geralt has managed to bring all the people in this project together by his joyful and endearing personality._

Geralt read it a second time. He looked back at the picture and read the plaque a third time.

“Geralt? Are you mad?” Jaskier was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “Wolf? Say something, please.”

“That's...” he searched for the right words to use, “That's my best picture so far,” he finally said.

Jaskier grinned so wide his crinkles appeared.

“You really like it?” He looked immensely relieved.

“I do, yeah.”

“Can I keep it up, then?” Jaskier's eyes were full of hope and he was pulling nervously at his hair.

“Sure,” Geralt smiled just as wide and Jaskier pulled him in for another hug. The third of the night. It was going well.

“Oh, before I forget! You have to sign some papers to make it official and everything.” Jaskier said when they pulled apart.

“I'll take care of it later. How are you feeling?”

“Anxious as hell. I've already peeled the skin around all my nails and I'm nervous sweating.”

“This place is going to be full of people you know in less than an hour. You'll feel calmer then.”

The special guests of the night's event were all the seventeen people photographed for the project.

“I'm already feeling better thanks to you,” Jaskier said and Geralt looked down, embarrassed.

“I've got you a present, but the host snatched it from me before I could do anything about it.”

“A present? What present?” Jaskier's eyes lit up.

“You'll see at the end of the night, I think.”

“You'll stay with me, right? You'll stay until it's time to close up?” The glint in Jaskier's eyes was truly endearing.

“You know, I think there's a golf special playing on TV, I was going to watch that tonight, but I guess I'll stay, then.” Geralt joked with a half-smile.

“Thanks, I don't know what I'd do here on my own.”

“You're a social butterfly, you'll do great.” Geralt patted him on the shoulder and Jaskier looked at him fondly.

“Let's get you a drink,” he said and ushered them back to the bar.

Less than an hour later, the guests started to arrive and Geralt had a pleasant buzz in his head. The place was overflowing with beautifully clad people, and there was even a newspaper photographer to record the evening's events.

He didn't stay by Jaskier's side the whole time. Instead, he mingled with the people he knew, chatted with their families, nibbled on delicious appetizers, and had, overall, a very good time. He'd watched Jaskier the whole night, though, sneaking glances and smiles when their eyes met.

He saw Jaskier chat with people who were, he assumed, in the artistic circle of the city. He saw Jaskier pocket a lot of business cards and swap contact information. Whenever they bumped into each other, Jaskier would tell him how great things were going, and Geralt seemed to not be able to not congratulate him every single time.

It was almost midnight when the people started to leave.

“How did you like your special night?” Geralt asked Jaskier as they stood next to the bar, finishing up their drinks.

“It was incredible, really,” Jaskier said excitedly, “I've met so many great people, so many important people in the business."

“Aedirn today, the rest of the world tomorrow.” Geralt said and nodded politely as yet another person came to say goodbye and congratulate Jaskier.

Only when the last person left, Jaskier was taken by the host to gather his gifts. There were quite a few of them.

“Is this a thing? To receive presents from strangers like that?” Jaskier asked as Geralt and he sorted through them. There were numerous bouquets of flowers as well. It was like a theatre premiere and Jaskier the main actor.

“I don't know, but I can't seem to find mine. It shouldn't have been kept in a box that long.”

“What color is the packaging?”

“Golden,” Geralt said with a smile. “Surprisingly similar to your boots.”

“Is it this one?” Jaskier asked, lifting up a small box.

“Yes! It's not much, don't expect anything of it.”

Jaskier didn't even listen to him, tearing up the wrapping paper and retrieving the small pot from the cardboard box.

“For your weird tea.” Geralt explained, satisfied with the delighted expression on Jaskier's face. It was a small rainbow-colored rose bush. There were three rosebuds, one of them half-way open.

“Wolf, these look awesome!” Jaskier exclaimed, softly touching the petals with the tip of his fingers.

“I thought a bouquet of roses was too...I don't know, cheesy. I was clearly wrong.” Geralt gestured around them, at the flowers for Jaskier.

“I loved it,” he said and cradled the clay pot to his chest. “Should I water it now?”

“It can wait for you to get home, I think.”

“Speaking of which, I'm dead tired. Shall we go?”

Geralt waited patiently as Jaskier said goodbye and shook hands with everybody on the staff. The art exhibit would be open to the public the next day, and he promised to stop by. The only gift he decided to take home with him that night was Geralt's.

When they stepped out of the building, a little over twelve-thirty, the cold wind caught them not so much by surprise. It was an English spring after all. Geralt's arms were immediately covered in goosebumps.

“Wish I'd brought a coat to give to you,” Jaskier mumbled as he rubbed one hand up and down Geralt's arm to warm him up.

“It's okay, the tube is near. How are you not cold? Your shirt is silk, for God's sake.”

“I guess I just don't feel cold easily,” Jaskier said, and they stood silently. This particular stretch of the street was completely deserted except for the two of them. They should have started walking, but neither of them did.

“Thanks for being here with me tonight,” Jaskier was the first to break the silence. “And thanks for letting me use your picture as well.”

“You're welcome. I quite liked that picture. The people from the pub complimented me for it, as well. None of the other people seemed to recognize me, though.”

“Well, you look very different from the picture than you do now.”

“Wow, thanks.” Geralt said sarcastically. “That was really great for my self-esteem, thank you very—”

Next thing he knew, Jaskier's lips were on his, their chests flushed together. Heat started to seep from Geralt's spine to the rest of his body in lightning-like strikes. Geralt wasn't the least bit ashamed of the sound that escaped him as he put his hand on the back of Jaskier's neck and pulled him closer.

Jaskier tasted of wine and mint gum and, even though his lips were cold, they were also soft and deliciously wet. He felt Jaskier breathing hotly against his cheek as he turned his face to kiss him properly, slowly moving his lips against Jaskier's. With a gasp, he felt one of Jaskier's hands, the one not holding his present, rest on his bum with a light squeeze.

“What I meant to say,” Jaskier said in a drawl, his lips moving against Geralt's neck, “was that you look even more handsome tonight, a different kind of handsome. But I actually prefer your rugged self.”

Geralt cupped Jaskier's chin and pulled his face back up, sealing their lips together again impatiently. He'd waited too long for this to stop for a chat. It was with a quick lick to Jaskier's bottom lip that he earned himself a low moan and a tongue-filled kiss. Jaskier's mouth was smooth and hot, hot enough to make Geralt lose his breath.

“Get a room, you two!” A group of teenagers shouted at them from the open window of a passing car, speeding and laughing wildly.

They pulled apart, both giggling and with flushed cheeks. Jaskier put his arms on Geralt's shoulders and smirked at him.

“Take me home, Geralt Rivia.”

He didn't have to ask twice.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is only smut in case you don't like it and want to skip.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Geralt huffed, jiggling the key in the keyhole. Jaskier was standing so close behind him he felt his breath on his neck. A hot puff of air hit him when Jaskier chuckled.

“We can come to my place if you can't open the door.”

They had both made an executive decision that it would be best to head back to Geralt's flat, it being the closest to the station. But Geralt had left the keys with Eskel to lock up and kept the spare one to himself. And now it just wouldn't open. Jaskier's hand on his lower back was also terribly distracting.

“We'll break a window if we have to,” Geralt said, his whole face contorted as he tried his hard to turn the goddamn key.

“Want me to try it?” Jaskier offered.

“There's a secret to it, you have to-got it!” He said triumphantly, swinging the door open and pulling Jaskier inside. He was not going to ruin this opportunity over a stupid door.

“My hero,” Jaskier joked and pulled him for a kiss, cornering him against the wall. Geralt was quick to tangle his fingers in Jaskier's hair and pull it slightly.

“I like it when you do that,” Jaskier whispered in the kiss.

“I like doing it, too. You have beautiful hair.”

Jaskier chuckled and pulled away. “Let's go upstairs.”

Geralt led the way, unlocking and opening doors for them. When he turned on the lights to his place, he grabbed Jaskier's hand and they walked to his bedroom. Geralt turned on the lights because he wanted to see Jaskier while they did whatever they were about to do. Geralt was happy to just kiss him.

“Nice bedroom,” Jaskier pointed out, looking around him.

“What are you talking about? You've been here before.” Geralt said as he closed the curtains and removed a small pile of clothes from the foot of the bed, pulling the duvet and revealing navy-blue sheets. He toed off his shoes and removed his socks, throwing them around randomly.

“No, never. We've always stuck to the living room and kitchen area.”

“Well that's just stupid of us, then,” Geralt said, stepping closer to Jaskier. “Come here,” he whispered, and Jaskier smiled fondly before circling Geralt's waist and bringing him closer.

Geralt kissed Jaskier slowly, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of finally having Jaskier close like that. He could barely believe they were actually kissing, that he was actually touching the man he'd been pining on for months. And that he seemed to enjoy it quite a lot.

He ran his hands on Jaskier's back, drawing lazy circles on his shoulders, feeling the silky touch under his fingers. He felt hands sneaking under his shirt, next to his stomach.

“Wanna take this off?” Jaskier mumbled. Geralt nodded and they both started undoing the buttons of Geralt's shirt. Jaskier's hands were warm on his chest, and his gaze was intense as he studied Geralt's torso.

“You're gorgeous,” Jaskier mumbled, more to himself than to Geralt.

“Off with yours, too,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier's shirt, who smiled warmly at him and kissed him again, before working on the buttons of his own white shirt. It slid off his shoulders and pooled around his feet.

“God, your body...” Geralt kissed his bottom lip as he let his hands roam free on Jaskier's chest and arms. “How do you even have a delicate body with chest hair like that?” He squeezed them tightly and groaned. “I just wanna lick and bite you all over.”

Jaskier chuckled. “What's stopping you? Certainly not me.”

“Cheeky,” Geralt teased and led Jaskier backwards to the bed. When he sat down Geralt was quick to remove Jaskier's boots and socks, leaving him only in his jeans. He lightly ran his fingers on the soles of Jaskier's feet and the man giggled, pulling his feet up.

“Stop that, this is supposed to be sexy,” he said, still giggling as Geralt tried to tickle him again.

“Your laugh is sexy,” he replied, laying Jaskier down on the centre of the bed and hovering over him. “Your smile is sexy,” he dropped a kiss on Jaskier's nose, “your voice is sexy,” he kissed Jaskier full on the lips.

“You're sexy all over,” was Jaskier's reply as he slid his hands down Geralt's back and cupped his ass with both hands, pulling his hips down to meet his own. Geralt hissed. Jaskier was just as hard as he was.

“You have a thing for my bum, don't you?” He asked as he kissed Jaskier's neck, inhaling deeply before sucking a bruise on his jaw, right next to his ear.

“It's a very nice bum,” Jaskier said with a smile in his voice, and squeezed harder, making Geralt squirm and grind down harder.

Geralt moved down Jaskier's torso with gentle, butterfly kisses. He drew the outline of his tattoos with his lips. Jaskier's skin was burning hot, smooth and smelled of fabric softener. He took his time on his pecks and stopped as he nudged a small bud. He examined closer.

“Is that… is that a nipple?” He looked up and Jaskier was biting his lips trying very hard not to laugh. “Do you have three nipples?”

Jaskier turned very serious. “Of course not. It would be weird if I had three nipples.” He paused for a second. “I have four.”

The bed shook as they both burst out laughing, Geralt resting his forehead on Jaskier's chest and feeling his stomach rise as he laughed freely. It was a beautiful sound.

“Are you serious? Where is the other one?” Geralt asked, still giggling, his eyes scanning all over Jaskier's stomach. “This, here?” He asked, touching lower on his stomach.

“Yeah, they're not fully developed. They're just… there.”

“Well, I think it's cute,” Geralt said as he kissed the two extra buds, “are they sensitive?”

“Not particularly, no,” Jaskier replied and pulled Geralt up for a deep kiss. “You're being very cool about this.”

“Well, you have to have some imperfection,” he said with a smile, their faces so close he could see the beautiful blue pattern in Jaskier's irises.

“I have plenty of imperfections.”

“I guess I'll have to examine every inch of you carefully to find them all, then,” Geralt said before turning his attention back to Jaskier's stomach.

He licked the outline of Jaskier's V line, tasting the slightly salty skin and feeling the muscles shift under his tongue as Jaskier squirmed. He started working on the belt on Jaskier's jeans. Jaskier's breathing had turned just a little faster and shallow.

“Is there anything I should know before I pull your pants down? Anything extra down here, too?” Geralt joked and Jaskier shook his head, a smile adorning his flushed face. Geralt could eat him up.

“Nope, perfectly normal down there.”

“God, the jeans you wear,” Geralt said in a breathy voice, palming Jaskier's cock over the fabric. Jaskier hissed and pushed his hips up. “They're obscene. I swear I can see the outline of your dick, sometimes.”

“I'm not the biggest fan of underpants,” Jaskier replied, but the humour was gone from his voice. He was looking down expectantly at Geralt.

Geralt smirked as he popped open the button and pulled down the zipper, revealing white underwear that did a perfect job at not hiding anything.

“And today is the day you decide to wear them, huh,” Geralt said and mouthed Jaskier over the fabric.

Jaskier let out a delicious sound and closed his eyes.

“Didn't want to freeball tonight. Important event and all,” he replied, and his voice was definitely a bit hoarse.

Geralt peeled off his jeans, a task that proved to be a little more difficult than he was expecting it to be. Jaskier's jeans really were tight, and he ended up having to help Geralt remove them past his feet.

Geralt kneeled in the middle of Jaskier's open legs and took a moment to just look at the man lying in front of him, in just his underwear. Jaskier's stomach was rising up and down fast to match his breathing, one hand on his chest and the other on the bed. He was looking up with a smirk as if he knew that he was stunning and enjoyed the attention. Geralt's eyes travelled down his body and landed on his crotch, the white underwear already spotted with pre-cum, and he had to swallow the saliva gathered in his mouth.

Jaskier chuckled.

“Are you going to do something about that, or what?”

“Sorry, got distracted,” Geralt snapped out of his daze and ran his hands over Jaskier's legs, starting on his calves and ending on his inner thighs. He lowered his head and bit down on it playfully. Jaskier giggled and pulled his leg a bit.

“You're ticklish,” Geralt said, pleased, before sucking on both of Jaskier's thighs.

“Not usually. I'm just...too riled up today.” Jaskier said, running his hands through Geralt's hair. “Good thing I had a wank before tonight or I would come as soon as you touched me.”

Geralt laughed.

“You really did, huh?” He said as he hooked his thumbs on the waistband of Jaskier's underwear and began to pull it down slowly.

“Yeah, I was in the shower thinking about you, as usual, and it occurred to me that you would be all dressed up and that did it.”

“I'll wear a tie next time, then,” Geralt said playfully, but his smile died on his lips when he finally got Jaskier rid of any clothing and just stared at him. “Fuck, Jaskier. Look at you.”

His fingers went to Jaskier's erection as if they had a will of their own, circling it and feeling how hard and hot and ready he was.

He heard Jaskier hiss but was too busy looking at his hand on that work of art of a cock to look up at Jaskier's face. He tugged at him a few times, slowly, just to feel his hand slide along the shaft and lowered his head, licking a small bead of pre-cum and circling his tongue around the head.

“God, Wolf.” Jaskier breathed out.

Geralt didn't bother with teasing and took Jaskier in his mouth all at once, humming at the taste and texture. He felt Jaskier's hand fly to his shoulders, squeezing as he bobbed his head up and down a bit.

“That feels amazing, Wolf...” Jaskier said, and Geralt finally looked up. He was so glad he did.

Jaskier's cheeks were flushed red, his eyes glossed and hooded as he looked down at him. His parted lips were pink and full, and his hair formed a halo around his head on the pillow. Geralt felt his own cock twitch in his pants. He would worry about that later.

Geralt took his time exploring, licking it in different ways, playfully sucking along the shaft before swallowing him again. He studied how Jaskier reacted, how loud and deep he moaned every time Geralt tried something different.

“Fuck, you're too good at this,” Jaskier said, his voice strained and his breaths shallow.

“It's because I love doing it. Especially on such a nice dick as yours,” Geralt replied as he kissed Jaskier's hips and jerked him off, keeping him on edge.

“That, that feels nice,” Jaskier said as Geralt thumbed over the head, his finger wet with pre-cum. He licked it clean before he gathered saliva in his mouth and started sucking him again.

Jaskier threw his head back on the pillow with his eyes shut tight and drew out a moan that sent shivers down Geralt's spine. Jaskier's hands on his shoulder squeezed harder and he could feel nails digging into his skin.

“I'm so close, so close...” Jaskier said, hips thrusting up almost warningly.

“How long is your refractory period?” Geralt asked, a little out of breath himself. Just the sight in front of him was enough to take his breath away.

“Short,” Jaskier breathed out, making a conscious effort to open his eyes and look at Geralt.

“Good, because I want you to fuck me soon.” Geralt said as he jerked him off faster and harder, loving the way Jaskier's hip met his closed hand, so desperate and needy.

“God, fuck...” Jaskier mumbled and then he was gone. His eyes closed and he frowned, his mouth hanging open as his orgasm hit him. He bit on his lips, breathing fast through his nose as his own come landed on his stomach.

Jaskier's orgasm was a beautiful thing to see, and Geralt promised to himself to make that happen as often as he could.

Jaskier was breathing fast when he opened his eyes again, to be met with Geralt's intense gaze.

“Jesus, Wolf… what did do you to me?” He asked, giggling a bit and Geralt kissed him softly. “I can barely move my legs.”

“I did what I've been wanting to do since you showed up at the pub and drove me crazy with your banter.”

“Should have done it right there and then,” Jaskier said as he ran his hands on his face, wiping a bit of sweat from his temples.

Geralt took his chance to gingerly lick at Jaskier's stomach, tasting a bit of him.

“Are you trying to make me hard again not even a minute after I came?” Jaskier teased.

“I was just curious,” Geralt said and opened the third drawer from his bedside table. From there he removed wet wipes, a condom and lube. Jaskier motioned to grab a wipe but Geralt stopped him.

“Let me.”

He cleaned the semen out of his hands before he carefully wiped Jaskier's stomach clean, leaving a trail of kisses down his stomach as he did so.

“You're very sweet in bed. I like that.” Jaskier pointed out with a fond smile as Geralt gently cleaned his sensitive cock. He pulled Geralt on top of him, kissing him firmly on the lips.

“And you're very fun.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Jaskier replied with a naughty smirk before he turned them around in bed and laid on top of Geralt. “I have just realised you still got pants on. We can't let that happen anymore.”

Jaskier was much faster at ridding Geralt of his clothes than Geralt was, and he found himself completely naked in bed with a smiling Jaskier in between his legs.

And then Jaskier's hand and mouth were all over him. His arms, chest, stomach, sides and legs. He felt his skin burn everywhere Jaskier touched him. Unlike Geralt, who took his time exploring around, Jaskier seemed impatient and wanting to touch as many of Geralt's skin as he could.

His tongue lapped at the tip of Geralt's cock as he ran his hands on the underside of Geralt's body and spread his cheeks apart, letting his thumb slide in between them.

“Are we really doing this?” He asked, breathless as he sucked on Geralt's neck.

“I want to. Do you want to?”

“I really, really do,” he said with a smirk, “Let's get this party started, shall we?”

“Please,” was all Geralt said as he watched Jaskier reach for the lube.

“Oh! I just remembered. Wanna see what's on my sex playlist?” Jaskier moved his body to get out of bed and reach his jeans that were on the floor when Geralt grabbed him by the wrist and kept him in place.

“Don't you dare leave this bed, Jaskier Pankratz. If you do, I swear to God...”

Jaskier chuckled.

“Right, sorry,” he pecked Geralt on the lips before he kneeled in front of him and put Geralt's open legs over his own thighs. “Should we lay down a towel or something? The dark sheets will stain.”

“Jaskier, look at me. Do I look like I care about stupid sheets?”

Jaskier smiled down at him.

“Not really. You look like you're about to explode if I don't touch you soon.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

Jaskier uncapped the lube and poured some on his index and middle finger, rubbing them together to warm it up a bit. He brought his hand to his face and sniffed.

“Chocolate, huh? My favourite.”

“I only realised it was scented when I got home.”

Jaskier licked the tip of his fingers and smiled.

“Flavoured, too.”

Geralt groaned and Jaskier giggled.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled and circled Geralt's rim with his lube-coated index finger, teasing a bit before inserting it until the first knuckle. He watched Geralt intently as he moved his finger completely inside of him.

“Feels nice,” Geralt breathed out, smiling up at him and resting his hands on Jaskier's knees.

“Good,” Jaskier whispered and put on a small dollop of lube on the palm of his left hand before reaching for Geralt's cock and wrapping his hand around it.

“Been wanting to see and touch you for so long,” he mumbled as Geralt started to breathe faster.

“Me too. Those hands of yours, those calloused fingers...God.”

Jaskier smirked and sped up, drawing out a long, low hum from Geralt's throat.

Geralt watched with his mouth hanging open the moment Jaskier wrapped his lips around his cock and sucked on it lightly.

“Fuck, Jas,” he let out a strangled moan as Jaskier put a second finger inside him, the burning stretch making him shudder.

He placed both his hands on Jaskier's head, sliding his hands through Jaskier's hair and tugging at it slightly. The last thing he wanted was to pull Jaskier's face away. The hair pulling made Jaskier moan around him and Geralt's eyes rolled back into his head.

“So good, feels so good,” he mumbled as Jaskier moved his fingers in and out of him at the same speed of his mouth. That double stimulation was making him dizzy. And then Jaskier hit it. The exact spot that always had him weak and panting. It was no different this time.

“You're so responsive,” Jaskier said around him, licking at the slit.

“How could I not? Your fingers are so good and your mouth is just sinful,” he managed to say, voice breaking and high-pitched.

“Here's a fun fact about me: I play the lute and have almost zero gag-reflex.”

To prove his point, Jaskier's head sank down deeper until Geralt's pubic hair was tickling his nose.

“Fuck!” Geralt almost screamed, the sight of Jaskier like that making his mind go blank for a split second. The fact that Jaskier was relentlessly massaging his prostate only fuelled him more.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing and on the feeling of Jaskier's tongue against the underside of his cock and the fingers working him open pain-free. He knew he was going to come in seconds.

“I'm ready, I'm ready,” he said and pulled Jaskier's face up and off of him.

“But I wanna make you come.” Jaskier literally pouted and Geralt somehow managed to not bite him.

“I wanna come with you inside of me,” Geralt explained and fumbled around the sheets until he found the condom. He handed it to Jaskier, who had it on at almost record-breaking speed.

“How do you wanna do this?” Jaskier asked in between kisses to Geralt's face. During the mind-blowingly good sex they were having, Jaskier still managed to make him laugh.

“Let me ride you,” Geralt whispered into Jaskier's ear. Jaskier was on his back before he could barely finish his sentence.

Geralt took the bottle of lube again and made sure Jaskier was thoroughly slicked up before swinging one leg over his hip. Jaskier held himself in his hands to help guide Geralt to lower himself.

Geralt hissed when the tip of Jaskier's cock went inside him. He could feel the familiar stretch and relished on it.

“You okay?” Jaskier asked, concern barely concealing the pleasure on his face.

“More than okay,” Geralt whispered back, sinking further and further down until his hips touched Jaskier's.

“You look so hot like this,” Jaskier said, running his hands on Geralt's side and scraping his nails along his skin.

Geralt could see the effort Jaskier was making not to move an inch, to let Geralt get comfortable before he tried anything. He lowered his torso and touched his lips to Jaskier's.

“Feels good for you, too?” He asked, tracing Jaskier's lips with his tongue, feeling his hot breath against his own mouth.

“Feels amazing. You're so warm...” Jaskier trailed off, hugging Geralt closer and kissing him deeply with a hand to the back of Geralt's neck. And then Jaskier moved his hip up a bit.

“Shit,” Geralt said, putting his hands on Jaskier's chest and pushing himself upright. He rolled his lips and his eyes closed involuntarily as pleasure spiked inside him. “You feel so good, Jas. The best I've ever been with.”

Jaskier groaned at the comment, and it soon turned into a moan as Geralt moved up and down slowly, his big cock leaking pre-cum on Jaskier's stomach.

Geralt wasn't shy to admit that he could drive men crazy when he rode them. The way he rolled his lips had the perfect technique to draw out screams of pleasure from his lovers, and he got the most pleasure out of it, too.

“You're in so deep, so hard,” he said in a long moan, hands on Jaskier's damp chest.

He felt his skin starting to get damp with sweat from his efforts as well. His thighs began to burn but he didn't stop, not when Jaskier was writhing with pleasure underneath him and hitting his prostate over and over again. Suddenly, Jaskier grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him down, locking their lips together.

“You're amazing,” he whispered into Geralt's open mouth, “You make this feel so good for me.”

Jaskier planted his feet firmly on the bed and thrust up, making Geralt scream.

“Do it again,” he managed to speak, his voice hoarse. And Jaskier did it, over and over again until Geralt was sure he was going to come untouched. But Jaskier didn't allow that. Instead, he sneaked his hand between their bodies and started touching him, moving his hand with quick and harsh movements.

Geralt came without warning, spilling on Jaskier's stomach, pleasure rushing so hard through him he lost control of his muscles for a second and let out a silent cry, biting down Jaskier's shoulder as he rode his orgasm fully.

“Jesus, Jaskier,” he whispered his whole body weight on top of Jaskier, too relaxed to move. In a quick movement, Jaskier flipped them around, immediately pushing himself inside Geralt again in between his spread legs.

Jaskier put one arm under Geralt's head and held his hip down with the other hand, holding Geralt down so firmly he couldn't move an inch as Jaskier moved inside him relentlessly, in deep and fast thrusts. Jaskier's face was buried in his neck and he could hear him making guttural sounds in his throat as he reached for his own orgasm.

Geralt's nails sank deep into the skin of Jaskier's back as he moved faster and lost his pace, too close to maintain a steady rhythm.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Jaskier chanted as he pulled out and ripped the condom off of him, jerking himself for half a second before he came on Geralt's stomach, so hard it almost reached his neck.

Geralt could barely comprehend how hot Jaskier looked in his post-orgasm daze. He was sitting on his heels in front of him with closed eyes, breathing heavily and deeply, strands of hair stuck to his damp face and neck and shuddering lightly. Geralt watched as his own come slid down Jaskier's torso to reach his pubic hair, and groaned.

Jaskier's eyes opened and he smiled down at Geralt.

“Well, that was fun.” Geralt said, and Jaskier laughed and his eyes closed again. He lowered his body until their chests were touching and kissed butterfly kisses over Geralt's neck. He smelled of sweat and sex.

“I'd give it a ten out of ten,” Jaskier said with a smile that matched Geralt's. “Sorry about that,” he gestured towards Geralt's torso, “it's the kind of thing you ask before you do it, but I was so caught up I didn't even think about it.”

“Are you kidding me? It was hot as hell,” Geralt replied, “Sorry about the nails on your back, too.”

“As you said it yourself, hot as hell,” Jaskier said, and his breathing was almost back to normal.

“I don't think wet wipes will cut it this time,” Geralt said, and Jaskier's eyes grew mischievous.

“Are you asking me to join you for a shower, Geralt Rivia?”

“I am, Jaskier Pankratz. Before we both fall asleep in this mess we've made.”

“I quite liked the mess, you know,” Jaskier said, stretching his back muscles and getting out of bed on wobbly feet. Geralt followed him to the bathroom already yawning.

Geralt was hopeful for a little bit of fooling around in the bathroom, maybe a handjob to finish the night, but they were both too tired for funny business. But he got to wash Jaskier's hair and back, which was on another level of eroticism.

When Jaskier was putting on a pair of borrowed underwear, he turned to Geralt and said “I can leave now, if you want me to. I can walk home, no problem.”

“What are you talking about?” Geralt asked, slipping on a pair of boxers himself.

“If you think it's awkward if I sleep over,” Jaskier said and moved to grab his shirt off the floor.

“Are you serious?” Geralt said, stopping him and guiding him back to bed. “Do you really think I want that?”

“I don't think so, but we've never done this before, I don't know what you like to do after sex.” Jaskier looked torn and Geralt just wanted to kiss him.

“It depends on the person I'm with.” Geralt said and made sure Jaskier laid down on the bed next to him, “With you, I want to maybe chat for a bit before we fall asleep. And I want to wake up next to you and cuddle, for sure. I'm definitely a morning cuddler.”

Jaskier smiled and laid on his side, facing Geralt.

“Me too,” he said and rested his hand on Geralt's hip. “I also like being the little spoon, if you want to sleep like that.”

Geralt smiled so wide his eyes crinkled.

“Sometimes I wonder if you're even real.”

“If I weren't real, could I do this?” Jaskier said and pinched Geralt side, making him squirm and laugh.

“It's late, don't get me riled up again,” he complained, but he didn't mind it at all.

“Sorry, let's just sleep. Good night, Wolf,” he said and kissed Geralt tenderly on the lips. He felt Geralt's lips curve up in a smile.

“Good night, Jas,” he replied and waited for Jaskier to turn to his other side and scooted over, putting his arm over Jaskier's waist and his hand on his chest. He smiled to himself when Jaskier picked up his hand and kissed the back of it before holding it tight against him. He was still smiling when he fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Geralt woke up with a jolt to the sound of some horrific techno music that made him jump out of his skin and his eyes bulge.

“Shit, sorry,” he heard Jaskier say and then it hit him. Jaskier was in his bed, with him. They'd had sex the night before and life was wonderful.

He watched Jaskier fumble out of bed to get to his pants on the floor. He fished out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and turned off the alarm. Jaskier in just a pair of black underwear (it was Geralt's after all) walking about his bedroom bathed in early-morning sunlight was a great thing to see first thing in the morning.

“What time is it?” Geralt said, blinking and relaxing again in his bed. He saw the book he was currently reading next to him on the mattress.

“It's 7:15,” Jaskier said and crawled back in bed with a huge smile on his face.

“You set your alarm for 7:15 on Sundays?” Geralt asked, and he couldn't resist the silent invitation of Jaskier opening up his arms to him and laid his head on his shoulder.

“It's my day to sleep in.”

“Ugh, you healthy freak. I thought your voice sounded sexy during sex, and now your morning voice came into play.”

“Thanks, you sound sexy, too,” he said with a smile and kissed the top of Geralt's head. “You sore?”

“No, I'm fine. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that you're really here, though,” he paused for a moment and took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of Jaskier’s skin. That last night really happened.

“Why is it difficult?” Jaskier asked, the tips of his fingers tracing up and down Geralt's arm.

“Because we've been flirting and walking in circles for so long. I was beginning to think you were just doing it to indulge me. That nothing would really come out of it and I'd be forever sexually frustrated because this beautiful boy with blue eyes was just out of my league.”

Jaskier chuckled. “You've never even opened the suggestion box I gave you, have you?”

“I read the first few ones you left. After the one you asked me to add fruit salad as an appetizer during game night, I kinda stopped. Why?” He frowned.

“Maybe you should check it when you have some time,” he said and Geralt nodded and turned his face up, sealing their lips together in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss. Morning breath was not a turn on and he didn't want to subject Jaskier to that.

“Were you reading?” He picked up the book The Goldfinch, by Donna Tartt. He was almost done with it, and he saw a small piece of the condom wrapper being used as a page marker. Jaskier was well into page sixty.

“Yeah, waiting for you to wake up.”

“You didn't have to, you could have just woken me up,” he said as he ran his hand on Jaskier's stomach, tracing the V that led to his crotch with the tips of his fingers.

“You were sound asleep and it was super early. I don't sleep well in strange beds,” he said, and held Geralt's hand, starting a silly thumb war.

“We have to make sure you sleep over a lot until you get used to it. Don't want you having sleepless nights,” he said and Jaskier grunted as Geralt's thumb covered his own.

“I'm shit at this.”

“That's because you have tiny hands,” Geralt teased and Jaskier scoffed.

“I'm sorry we can't all have wheel-loader hands.”

“They're great for eating popcorn as well,” Geralt said and laughed as he won again.

Jaskier sighed and rolled on the bed, moving to get up.

“Wait, sorry. Didn't want to offend you,” Geralt said, holding him by the waist with big, puppy eyes, “your hands are fine, loved them on me last night.”

“No, silly,” Jaskier smiled and kissed him on the tip of his nose, “I need a wee, that's all.”

“Oh, good,” Geralt said and laid back down.

“Already used the bathroom. And your toothbrush as well, hope you don't mind.”

Geralt didn't.

“I don't think I could ever be disgusted by you.”

“Is that a dare?” Jaskier's eyes lit up.

“No, let's not try to gross each other out just yet.” Geralt said as Jaskier walked out of the bedroom.

“Are you sure? I can start clipping my toenails in bed just about now,” Jaskier half-shouted, “I'm flexible enough to do it with my teeth, I think!”

“Let's use this flexibility for better things,” Geralt snapped back.

When Jaskier came back it was Geralt’s turn. He smiled as he used the bathroom. He smiled as he brushed his teeth. He smiled as he washed his face. He smiled as he ran a comb through his hair. Geralt could not help himself but simply smile, It was indeed a beautiful morning. When he came back, Jaskier was laying on his stomach, a pillow supporting his arms as he held the book and silently read.

Geralt stopped at the threshold and admired him. Jaskier had the most gorgeous back he had ever seen, lean and muscular. His hair was long enough to be curling on his nape. He walked to the bed and Jaskier looked back at him.

“What happened to the bed hair? I liked it.”

“You are so beautiful,” was all Geralt said before he sat down on Jaskier's bum and started a made-up massage technique on Jaskier's shoulder.

“Hum, that feels good.” Jaskier purred.

“Read for me, aloud. Love your voice.”

Jaskier cleared his throat and started.

”I like this one too,” whispered my mother, coming up alongside me at a smallish and particularly haunting still life: a white butterfly against a dark ground, floating over some red fruit. The background – a rich chocolate black – had a complicated warmth suggesting crowded storerooms and history, the passage of time.

“They're at the gallery, right?” Geralt asked, letting his hands roam to Jaskier's lower back. He had no idea what he was doing, but he loved the feeling of skin and muscles under his hands. Jaskier hummed in response. “You won't believe what happens next.”

“What?” Jaskier said, trying to look at Geralt but failing because of the awkward angle.

“I won't give you spoilers, you'll have to read it,” he said and slid off of Jaskier, laying next to him. “You can keep the book, I've read it a million times already. It fucks me up in the best way.”

“I will, thanks,” Jaskier said and closed the book in his hands, putting it on the nightstand. “I'm sure it will be no Harry Potter, but I'll give it a try,” he joked.

“Potterhead, huh?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Big one. If you don't like Harry Potter we should end this now, I could never raise children with someone with such different fundamental beliefs as mine.”

Geralt chuckled.

“I like Harry Potter just fine. Hagrid is my spirit animal.”

Jaskier laughed at that and bit his lips, letting his eyes wander on Geralt's soft morning features.

“Good morning, Wolf,” he said and cupped Geralt's face with his hand and kissed him deeply. His tongue darted inside Geralt's mouth, who was more than willing to comply and let himself be kissed into a puddle. He still tasted of toothpaste.

“Good morning, Jas,” he whispered back when they pulled apart, a small string of saliva connecting their mouths.

“I believe I was promised cuddles,” Jaskier said and Geralt giggled, tangling their legs together and bringing them chest to chest, both their heads resting on his pillow. He brought his face to Jaskier's neck and inhaled deeply.

“You smell amazing in the morning,” he said and nibbled on the warm skin.

“You smell and look amazing, too. Puffy eyes and soft skin.” Jaskier said and pressed their bodies closer.

“Aren't we both disgustingly sweet this morning,” Geralt teased and Jaskier smiled.

“Not just this morning, I like to be this way all the time.”

“I can get used to that,” Geralt said and kissed Jaskier lazily again. He sucked on Jaskier's bottom lip and licked the inside of his mouth, their tongues touching in a heated open-mouthed kiss.

“You'll get me hard in no time like this,” Jaskier whispered and pressed his hips firmly against Geralt's. He was already half-way there.

“Morning sex is kind of my favourite,” Geralt whispered back. “Love waking up to a good blowjob.”

“Giving or receiving?” Jaskier teased as he slid his hand down Geralt's underwear and cupped his cheeks.

“Both, I don't care which.”

“Sixty-nine must drive you up the wall.”

“Why don't you see that for yourself, huh?” Geralt replied, and Jaskier kissed him hard again.

Then his phone blasted into life as he got a phone call.

“Aren't you going to get that?” Geralt asked as Jaskier kissed his neck.

“Probably Lambert, we'll talk later. I have more interesting things to occupy myself with right now.”

Geralt glanced over Jaskier's shoulder to look at the phone.

“It says “mum” on the screen.”

“Better get that,” Jaskier mumbled and turned around, his legs still intertwined. “She'll keep calling until I answer,” he said as he tapped on the screen. “Hi, mum.”

Geralt smiled at the tone Jaskier used with his mother, full of love and cheer.

“I'm fine, you? Great, how's dad? It was wonderful, mum. You wouldn't believe how fancy the place was and how many people I talked with. Yeah, he liked it,” Jaskier glanced at Geralt, “Let me keep it up and everything.”

“I'll give you some privacy,” Geralt whispered and crawled out of bed. He was going to get breakfast started.

He knew Jaskier wasn't a big coffee drinker and that he loved a good, sweet fennel tea. He put on the kettle and climbed up the garden to get some fresh fennel. It was a beautiful day and Geralt was humming to himself when he climbed back down and into the kitchen.

He could hear Jaskier chatting with his mum in the bedroom while he fixed them some tea. He was a good tea maker, Jaskier had told him, and he was more than happy to fix him a cuppa in the morning.

When Jaskier walked into the kitchen, still in just underwear, bless him, the steaming mug was ready and waiting for him.

“Thanks,” he said and sipped, standing next to Geralt in the sink. “It's delicious.”

“Fresh from the garden,” Geralt said with a pleased smile, “What do you want for breakfast?”

“You,” Jaskier whispered and stepped closer, circling Geralt's waist and kissing him with a tea-hot mouth.

Geralt giggled and pulled away. “I'm seriously hungry right now. I could also hear your stomach grumble when we were in bed. What do you usually have for breakfast?”

“Fruit.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Of course. I have apples, a banana and an avocado, I think.”

Jaskier made a face. “Not avocados, thanks. Do you have a pancake mix? I could eat some pancakes.”

“A pancake mix, Jaskie?” Jaskier giggled at the pet name. “I can make you some from scratch. I didn't survive until adulthood with a pre-made pancake mix.”

“My bad, can I help?” He asked as Geralt moved about the kitchen and got all the ingredients necessary.

“You can flip them, I'm not the best at it. They always come out weirdly shaped.”

They set about making them, Geralt working the batter as Jaskier cooked them. Geralt watched, endeared, as Jaskier put a bandana on his hair and washed his hands before he touched any kitchen utensils. A few minutes later and Jaskier was standing in front of the stove with one leg bent, his foot pressed firmly against his calf as he worked on making beautifully round and fluffy pancakes.

Geralt was eager to make that his new morning routine.

“They are coming out great,” Geralt said, fixing them another cup of hot tea to drink while they ate.

“I'm a pancake master. I make mean toast as well, all complicated dishes,” Jaskier said proudly as he stacked the last couple of ones in their plates. Geralt grabbed one for himself and sat at the table. Jaskier looked at him questioningly.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Huh...eating breakfast?” Geralt replied, not really getting Jaskier's question.

“At the table?”

“Would you rather eat in bed, or...?”

“Are you seriously telling me you don't eat breakfast in the garden, Geralt?”

“Oh, almost never. It's difficult to haul things up there when you're alone.”

“Well, today we have two pairs of hands. Come on, help me with these things.”

Together they managed to bring both plates, forks and their mugs of tea to the garden. Geralt sat on the bench, in the shade, and was amused to see Jaskier sitting on the decked floor and crossing his legs.

“You're like a cat in the sun,” Geralt pointed out.

“Vitamin D is very important, you know. Come sit with me,” he invited, and Geralt knew a long time ago that he just couldn't say no to Jaskier.

He sat down in front of him and crossed his legs, their knees touching. The sun felt warm on his skin, and it was his first time eating pancakes in the garden in only his underwear. It felt liberating.

“You know something I've always wanted to do here?” Jaskier asked him all seriously.

“What?”

“Suck you off on that bench,” Jaskier replied with a smirk and Geralt laughed, spitting his tea all over himself. “What? As if you hadn't thought of something like that!” Jaskier said and laughed too, wiping away a few drops from Geralt's chin.

“The things you say,” Geralt said, shaking his head, “but yeah, I have.”

“What did you think about?” Jaskier asked, munching on a piece of pancake.

“Jesus, Jaskier.” Geralt ran a hand through his long hair, “I had no idea you were so... sexual like that.”

“Oh,” Jaskier looked surprised and his eyes darkened. “Sorry, I'll try to tone it down. I didn't know it would bother you.”

“No no no,” Geralt was quick to say, putting his empty plate beside him and holding Jaskier's face with both hands. “I didn't mean it in a bad way, no. I love that about you, honestly.”

“It didn't sound like it,” Jaskier replied, still looking upset.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean it for it to sound like I didn't like it. I am really surprised, that's all. Pleasantly surprised, I mean.” He kissed Jaskier softly on the lips and felt them turn up into a smile.

“You really don't mind it?”

“That you want to suck me off on the bench and want to have sex with me? Nah, I don't think so,” he joked and Jaskier giggled. “We can talk about sex as much as you want, honestly.”

“Great, because I want to do a lot of things with you. Last night was just a preview.”

“Like what?” Geralt raised his brows and Jaskier giggled.

“Please, Geralt. We're still eating breakfast,” Jaskier faked disgust.

“I've finished all of mine,” Geralt pouted and reached for Jaskier's plate.

Jaskier batted his hand away. “Get your paws away from my food,” he joked and Geralt put his hands on Jaskier's sides, tickling him slightly.

“Come on, I'm still hungry.”

“You'll make me drop everything,” Jaskier squealed, keeping his plate up and finally set it down on the floor. All in great timing because a few seconds later they were full-on wrestling on the floor. Geralt was getting a little turned on if he was being honest with himself. Rolling around with a pretty much naked Jaskier on the floor could have an effect like that on anyone, he figured.

Neither of them heard the steps approaching them, busy with laughter.

“Well well well, what have we here?”

They immediately froze in place, Jaskier straddling Geralt and holding his arms up with both hands. They snapped their heads up to see both Eskel and Lambert standing over them, arms crossed and an amused smile on their faces.

“Look, Wolf. Our favourite leaves are here.”

Lambert frowned and looked at Eskel, who just shook his head. Jaskier got off of Geralt and they stood up.

“Pancakes, anyone?” Geralt joked and they all shared amused smiles. Jaskier hugged Lambert tightly and then Eskel, and neither seemed to be bothered by the fact that he wasn't wearing much. “What are you doing here, Lambert? I thought you were taking the 11 am train.”

“I decided to come earlier and take a walk downtown before buying you a celebratory lunch. But more importantly, what are you doing here, mister I'm-not-shagging-Geralt-tonight-so-just-drop-it Pankratz?” Lambert teased and Jaskier turned red.

“So it was your plan all along, huh?” Geralt asked and Jaskier mumbled something he couldn't listen. “How did you even get up here, anyway?”

Eskel shook the key-chain Geralt had left with him the night before handing it back to him. Oh, right.

“You weren't answering my texts, neither of you,” Eskel looked at both of them, “so we had to come and check if you were so hungover that you needed physical help to get the day going.”

“I honestly don't even know where my phone is,” Geralt said as he picked up the plates and mugs to bring them back down again.

“Understandable, you were distracted,” Eskel teased and Geralt fake-kicked him in the face as he climbed down the steps.

“Hey, Jaskier, your mum sent you this,” Lambert pointed to a small package he'd left earlier on the kitchen counter. “Said she'll be here with your dad on Friday.”

Jaskier's eyes lit up at the prospect of a present from his family, rolling the small package in his hands as if he were afraid to break it.

“I'll put some clothes on,” Geralt started to walk to the bedroom but Eskel stopped him.

“Hey, quick question. Who made the first move?”

Lambert looked at Eskel and then back to Jaskier and Geralt.

“What do you mean?” Geralt said, exchanging a glance with Jaskier.

“Who kissed who first? I'm assuming you were kissing before falling mouth-first on each other's dicks.” Eskel teased and his blunt tone made Geralt blush a little.

“I kissed Geralt last night,” Jaskier interjected, and Eskel groaned frustratedly.

“Yes! Pay up, loser,” Lambert chimed in, looking too pleased with himself.

“Damn it, Wolf! You owe me for this.” Eskel said, taking his wallet and handing Lambert twenty pounds.

“You had a bet on who was going to make the first move?” Jaskier asked with a snort, “Wish you had told me sooner, I wanted in on this.”

“You are such a coward, Geralt,” Eskel mumbled, clearly upset about giving up the money.

“I'll use this for lunch today, so don't feel bad about it,” Lambert said and clapped Eskel's shoulder.

“Where are we going to eat?” Jaskier asked, expectantly.

“Anywhere you like. It's on us today.” Eskel said, back to his old, cheery self.

“Go get dressed so we can go,” Lambert instructed, and both Jaskier and Geralt headed to the bedroom.

“We'll stop by the gallery later, right?” Geralt said as he rummaged through his closet in search of something nice to wear. Jaskier was already dressed in the clothes from the night before and he looked even more stunning. Maybe it was because now Geralt knew how his skin tasted and felt under his touch.

“Right, I want to show them both the pictures and hang out a bit, see if anybody shows up. Get the rest of my presents as well.”

“What did you get from your mum?” Geralt asked, starting to lay out clothes on the bed.

“I don't know yet. I want to open it when I'm on the phone with her. Maybe I'll Skype her when I open it so she can see my reaction.”

Geralt smiled at him fondly. Jaskier was so caring and thoughtful it made him feel warm inside.

“Maybe I'll even Skype you later,” Jaskier said and hugged him from behind, tracing his ear softly with his lips.

“Don't bother, I'll come over,” Geralt said, turning around and kissing him softly.

“Great, really want you to,” Jaskier whispered and pressed their chests flushed together. Getting dressed was proving to be really difficult that morning.

“Hey, no monkey business, you two! We are waiting over here,” they heard Eskel shout from the living room.

“We should hurry up, Lambert rarely comes to London and he loves sight-seeing.” Jaskier said and let Geralt go, “Put this on, it looks great on you,” Jaskier pointed to a white-striped t-shirt, and the outfit for Geralt's day was settled.

They stopped by quickly to Jaskier's place so he could change into different clothes. He still had on the gold boots but opted for a baby-blue shirt that made him soft and elegant at the same time.

Jaskier wasn't joking when he said Lambert enjoyed sight-seeing. They were behaving like proper tourists, even splurging for a ride in the London Eye, which left Jaskier weak in the knees from the height. They ate at a gourmet restaurant that served dishes that were half-empty and cost more than they should spend, but it made Jaskier feel special and that was all they cared about.

Both Eskel and Lambert gasped when they entered the gallery showcasing Jaskier's pictures. It had just opened for the day, and it was quite empty still. They walked about, carefully studying the pictures and the descriptions, and they were so stunned by Geralt's picture that they didn't even tease him about it.

“This is so great, mate!” Eskel hugged Jaskier tight, “You're going to be rich and famous! Don't forget about us, please.”

“I'm not sure about rich, but I'm aiming for famous.”

“National Geographic will be lucky to have you as a freelance for them,” Lambert said, and Jaskier was grinning so widely that his face must have hurt.

They lingered enough around the gallery to see people coming and study their expressions. They were all commenting on different pictures, taking photos of the pictures themselves and talking to Jaskier about them, who was not the least bit shy to introduce himself to anybody and strike up a conversation.

Geralt mostly watched it from afar, just like he had done the night before. He was beaming with pride because these were actually common people who came in to admire Jaskier's work. They weren't being paid or writing an article, they had come just to appreciate his art. He also didn't trust his own hands now that he had permission to touch Jaskier wherever he wanted.

“So...” Eskel started, walking up to him.

Geralt bit his lips. They both had their eyes on Lambert and Jaskier, who were talking to a group of teenage boys, all with their cameras in hand.

“So...” Geralt mimicked his mate.

“You and Jaskier, huh?”

Eskel had the smuggest look on his face.

“Don't act like you're surprised it happened.”

“I actually am surprised. Jaskier was telling me just last week about how he'd tried to make his move and you pushed him away.”

“He what?!” Geralt was baffled, leaning towards Eskel with all his attention focused on him. “Since when does he talk to you about me?”

“How long ago did we meet him?” Was Eskel's snarky reply.

“Are you for real? Why didn't you tell me this?”

“Because he asked me not to.”

“But...I'm your best friend! You're my greenest leaf!”

“Mate, you sound crazy with the leaf talk. And if anybody tells me something in secret, my loyalty is with my word. I ain't no snitch, man!” Eskel faked a north-american accent and Geralt laughed.

“Did he say I pushed him away?” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier. He caught his eye and playfully blew a kiss to him. Geralt giggled and pretended to catch it, setting it on his lips.

“Oh God, this is gonna be a nightmare,” Eskel shook his head, but his smile betrayed him. “He said he thought you were just being nice to him. I told him that you weren't nice to anyone unless you wanted to get inside their pants.”

“Thanks, that makes me sound super romantic.”

“Well, I'm not lying. You wanted to get in his pants. You actually did get in his pants. And if you don't send me a pic of his naked butt I'll stop being your leaf.”

Geralt laughed out loud at that and drew Jaskier's attention to him. He saw Jaskier excuse himself and come to him.

“What are you two talking about that is making you all giggly?” He said and put his hand on Geralt's lower back.

“Eskel wants me to sneak a picture of your ass to send to him.”

Eskel didn't look at all ashamed.

“Why didn't you just say so, Eskie? You can take it yourself. How's tomorrow morning for you?” Jaskier joked and pinched Eskel's bum.

Eskel squealed and scurried away.

“Anyone who can appreciate a good joke is a keeper in my book,” he said and checked his watch. “This looks amazing, mate, but I have to go. I'll drop by tomorrow morning and I trust you with a good camera angle,” he winked at Jaskier, “Wear a blue shirt, I want it to match your eyes.”

“Sure thing,” Jaskier saluted him. Eskel walked over to Lambert to say goodbye.

“I'm gonna go with Eskel. I have a few things I need to get ready at the pub and I'm sure you want some alone time with Lambert before he catches his train.”

“You don't have to go, he doesn't mind you being around. He thinks you're funny.”

“Only him, huh?” Geralt teased and lightly ran his fingers on Jaskier's sides.

“Only him. I think you're dull and grumpy. But you've got a nice cock, so I guess I'll put up with you.”

“Shhh,” Geralt shushed him, looking around to see if anybody had heard him. “You've been putting up with me for months without seeing it, though.”

“I had faith in you,” Jaskier said and Geralt laughed, briefly hiding his face on Jaskier's chest.

“I'll see you tonight, okay?” He said and Jaskier nodded with a smile that was so full of joy that Geralt couldn't help sneak a kiss. “Call me when you drop Lambert off at the station.”

“Bye, Wolf. Thanks for last night. The earth-shattering orgasms and all.” Jaskier said before stealing a kiss himself.

“Anytime,” Geralt said with a chuckle.

Eskel had to practically untangle him from Jaskier so they could go. The first thing Geralt did when he got to the pub was to check the suggestion box. He found it filled with pretty much only Jaskier's notes, written in cursive. He smiled as he looked through them.

Karaoke night would be a hit  
J.

Body shots are not nearly encouraged enough >:(  
J.

You look great in that shirt. Any shirt you're thinking is the correct one  
J.

Two words: Disco ball  
J.

Geralt's smile grew as he read the other ones, the ones on top of the small pile inside the box.

I want to kiss you so bad  
J.

Please, kiss me  
J.

My jeans can't get any tighter without me becoming sterile, just kiss me  
J.

Seriously, Wolf? Fine, I'll kiss you instead  
J.

Geralt was so glad Jaskier did just that.


End file.
